Earth and sea merged, the sea tossed itself in the air in a fantastic dance, into the shapes of men and horses and tattered banners. I stood in the lee of an overhanging rock and thought of many things.
I have gone to the forest.
Love is every bit as violent and dangerous as murder.
When good befalls a man he calls it Providence, when evil fate.
Truth is neither ojectivity nor the balanced view; truth is a selfless subjectivity.
You are welcome to your intellectual pastimes and books and art and newspapers; welcome, too, to your bars and your whisky that only makes me ill. Here am I in the forest, quite content.