Wir träumen von Reisen durch das Weltall: ist denn das Weltall nicht in uns? Die Tiefen unseres Geistes kennen wir nicht. – Nach Innen geht der geheimnisvolle Weg. In uns, oder nirgends ist die Ewigkeit mit ihren Welten, die Vergangenheit und Zukunft.

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What is it that wells up so suddenly and menacingly under my heart, swallowing the soft air of melancholy? Are you pleased with us, dark night? What is it you conceal under your mantle, that grabs invisibly and powerfully at my soul? A rich balm drips off your fingers from a bundle of poppies. You raise up the heavy wings of the soul – darkly and inexpressibly we are moved. I see an earnest face startled with joy – softly and reverently it inclines toward me, and under endlessly entangled locks
appears the cherished face of our Mother. How poor and childish the light seems to me now − how welcome and
blessed is the day’s departure.

The moral system must become a natural system. All sickness is the equivalent of sin; it is through an excess that it is transcended. Our sicknesses are all phenomena of a heightened sensation that in great force will overflow.
As man would become God, he sins — The sickness of plants is animalization; the sickness of animals is rationalization; the sickness of stones is vegetation. Shouldn't each plant correspond to a stone and to an animal?
Reality of sympathy. Parallelisms of the natural realm. — Plants are dead stones; animals are dead plants, and so forth. Theory of metempsychosis.

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