Behind me the branches of a wasted and sterile existence are cracking.
The spirit can assert itself only through the medium of clear form.
It is strange how one feels drawn forward without knowing at first where one is going.
Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.
Fortunately, something always remains to be harvested. So let us not be idle.
The impressions of the spriritual experiences gave my future life its form and content.