Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.
What an old maid I'm getting to be. lacking the courage to be in love with death!
I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; garlands from window to window; golden chains from star to star, and I dance.
Faith assuages, guides, restores.
What am I doing here?
I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.