Creators of history always play with our impotence and our ignorance.
God is a cloud from which rain fell.
In a myriad of ways you tell one truth.
Nothing is made, nothing disappears. The same changes, at the same places, never stopping.
Through a forest of challenges, thought moves and squirms, resisting beguilements; if it endures, it emerges pure.
In the essence of truth lies deceit.