After the rains departed the skies and settled on earth - clear skies; moist brilliant earth - greater clarity returned to life alone with the blue above and made the world below rejoice with the freshness of the recent rain. It left heaven in our souls and a freshness in our hearts.

Blessed are those who entrust their lives to no one.

It is noble to be shy, illustrious not to know how to act, great not to have a gift for living.

The unnatural and the strange have a perfume of their own

I am tired of myself in every way. All things, deep down to the secret of their roots, are stained by the color of my weariness.

Isn't joyful or painful this pain in which I rejoice

Giving importance to what we think because we thought it, taking our own selves not only (to quote the Greek philosopher) as the measure of all things but as their norm or standard, we create in ourselves, if not an interpretation, at least a criticism of the universe, which we don't even know and therefore cannot criticize. The giddiest, most weak-minded of us then promote that criticism to an interpretation that's superimposed, like a hallucination; induced rather than deduced. It's a hallucination in the strict sense, being an illusion based on something only dimly seen.