His vision, from the constantly passing bars, has grown so weary that it cannot hold anything else. It seems to him there are a thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world. As he paces in cramped circles, over and over, the movement of his powerful soft strides is like a ritual dance around a center in which a mighty will stands paralyzed. Only at times, the curtain of the pupils lifts, quietly. An image enters in, rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles, plunges into the heart and is gone.

All the soarings of my mind begin in my blood.

Ah, how good it is to be among people who are reading!

Our task is to take this earth so deeply and wholly into ourselves that it will resurrect within our being.

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough

Wishes are recollections coming from the future.

This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.