My bits of time play with eternity.
My heaviness comes from the heights.
Man talks about everything, and he talks about everything as though the understanding of everything were all inside him.
What words say does not last. The words last. Because words are always the same, and what they say is never the same.
A door opens to me. I go in and am faced with a hundred closed doors.
Suffering is above, not below. And everyone thinks that suffering is below. And everyone wants to rise.