And what word is knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?
Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even what we are.
For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.
Love is a gracious host to his guests though to the unbidden his house is a mirage and a mockery.
If we were to all sit in a circle and confess our sins, we would laugh at each other for lack of originality.
For the sight of the angry weather saddens my soul and the sight of the town, sitting like a bereaved mother beneath layers of ice, oppresses my heart.