So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp.

In the depths all becomes law.

In the night, I wish to speak with the angel to find out if she recognizes my eyes, if she will ask me: do you see Eden? And I’ll reply: Eden burns.

The flower bends when the wind wants it to, and you must become like that-that is, filled with deep #‎ trust .

Nothing touches a work of art so little as criticism.

We are unutterably alone essentially, especially in the things most intimate and most important.

Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.