But one had to go back to the beginning of things, always. Trace the thread of life - find the knot - untangle it.

Ah, life, life, how madly, how cruelly it raced along your pulses!

But one had to go back to the beginning of things, always. Trace the thread of life - find the knot - untangle it.

Religion is passionate, reckless, destructive, idol-smashing. It's a martyr burning at the stake. It's a crown of thorns and a cross.

once a man had thrust his hands into the soil and knew the grit of it between his teeth, he felt something rise within him that was not of his day or generation, but had persisted through birth and death from a time beyond recall.

A sickness ... defines margins, crystallizes the shape of things.

You have stirred the soil with your plow, my friend. It will never be the same again.