How can one take delight in the world unless one flees to it for refuge?
Self-control means wanting to be effective at some random point in the infinite radiations of my spiritual existence.
A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.
I am more uncertain than I ever was; I feel only the power of life. And I am senselessly empty.
In a way, I was safe writing
The true way goes over a line that, rather than spanning heights, is hardly above the ground. It appears more decidedly to make one trip than to be walked along.