My taking a seat on the Council of the Fathers caused a desperate fluttering among my ghosts.
Without asceticism, self-indulgence would be insignificant.
In the labyrinth of a difficult text, we find unmarked forks in the path, detours, blind alleys, loops that deliver us back to our point of entry, and finally the monster who whispers an unintelligible truth in our ears.
Enough is ever-receding.
I put second things first, and then worry about first things.
I was once in love with books. Now they go their way and I go mine.