Departure beyond the borders of my country is for me equivalent to death.
How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?
But what are pity, conscience, or fear To the brazen pair, compared With the living sorcery Of their hot embraces?
We're all time's captives, hostages to eternity.
Only the solitary seek the truth, and they break with all those who don't love it sufficiently
Salvation lies not in the faithfulness to forms, but in the liberation from them.