It seems to me that this whole alone is worthy of the deeper sort of love; and that there is peace, freedom, I might say a kind of salvation, in turning one's affections outward toward this one God, rather than inwards on one's self, or on humanity, or on human imaginations and abstractions - the world of the spirits.

Does it matter whether you hate yourself? At least love your eyes that can see, your mind that can hear the music, the thunder of the wings.

They import and they consume reality.

Imagination, the traitor of the mind, has taken my solitude and slain it.

A little too abstract, a little too wise, It is time for us to kiss the earth again, It is time to let the leaves rain from the skies, Let the rich life run to the roots again.

Justice and mercy/ Are human dreams, they do not concern the birds nor the fish nor eternal God.

There is no reason for amazement: surely one always knew that cultures decay, and life's end is death.