Only those in comfortable circumstances think love is the most important thing.
All anger feels like righteous anger; sorrow does not care whether it is righteous or not.
The Olympian gods cannot have grand passions because they cannot die.
Passion impels our deeds; ideology supplies the explanations.
Self-realization sounds good. But what if only an enraged dwarf emerges?
Astrology: do we make a hullabaloo among the stars, or do they make a hullabaloo down here?