Only the moment counts. It determines life.

The tremendous world I have inside my head. But how free myself and free it without being torn to pieces. And a thousand times rather be torn to pieces than retain it in me or bury it. That, indeed, is why I am here, that is quite clear to me.

By imposing too great a responsibility, or rather, all responsibility, on yourself, you crush yourself.

The thornbush is the old obstacle in the road. It must catch fire if you want to go further.

That's how it will be, except that in reality, both today and later, one will stand there with a palpable body and a real head, a real forehead, that is, for smiting on with one's hand.

You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.

Simply wait, be quiet, still The world will freely offer itself to you.