On the church vaulting above was the clock-face of eternity, void of number and serving as its own hand, only one black finger was pointing and the d… - Jean Paul

When in your last hour (think of this) all faculty in the broken spirit shall fade away, and sink into inanity — imagination, thought, effort, enjoyment — then will the flower of belief, which blossoms even in the night, remain to refresh you with its fragrance in the last darkness.

Sobald wir anfangen zu leben, drückt oben das Schicksal den Pfeil des Todes aus der Ewigkeit ab - er fliegt so lange, als wir atmen, und wenn er ankommt, hören wir auf.

Memory is the only paradise out of which we cannot be driven away.