Prose talks and poetry sings.
Fate determines many things, no matter how we struggle.
The near stillness recalls what is forgotten, extinct angels.
Never stay up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down into the green valleys of silliness.
It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood.
What can be shown, cannot be said.
Not every religion has to have St. Augustine’s attitude to sex. Why even in our culture marriages are celebrated in a church, everyone present knows what is going to happen that night, but that doesn’t prevent it being a religious ceremony.
Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.
We have become makers of our fate when we have ceased to pose as its prophets.
Silently, God opens his golden eyes over the place of skulls.