Is the earth in our head? Or do we stand on the earth?

To be a poet in a destitute time means: to attend, singing, to the trace of the fugitive gods. This is why the poet in the time of the world's night utters the holy.

A person is neither a thing nor a process but an opening through which the Absolute can manifest.

The song still remains which names the land over which it sings.

Anyone can achieve their fullest potential, who we are might be predetermined, but the path we follow is always of our own choosing. We should never allow our fears or the expectations of others to set the frontiers of our destiny. Your destiny can't be changed but, it can be challenged. Every man is born as many men and dies as a single one.

The world worlds, and is more fully in being than the tangible and perceptible realm in which we believe ourselves to be at home...By the opening up of a world, all things gain their lingering and hastening, their remoteness and nearness, their scope and limits. In a world's worlding is gathered that spaciousness out of which the protective grace of the gods is granted and withheld. Even this doom of the god remaining absent is a way in which the world worlds...All coming to presence...keeps itself concealed to the last.

Dwelling is not primarily inhabiting but taking care of and creating that space within which something comes into its own and flourishes.