اننى أذكر صباح يوم اكتشفت فيه شرنقة فى قشرة شجرة ، فى اللحظة التى كانت فيها الفراشة تحطم الغلاف وتتهيأ للخروج. وانتظرت فترة طويلة لكنها تأخرت ، وكنت … - Nikos Kazantzakis

متى أنزوي أخيرا في الوحدة ، بمفردى ، دون رفاق ، دون فرح أو حزن ، لايصحبنى سوى اليقين المقدسى بأن كل شيء ليس إلا حلما ؟ متى أعتزل فرحا مع أسمالي البالية – دون شهوات –فى الجبل؟

متى أختلى بعد أن أتبين أن جسدي ليس إلا مرضا و جريمة وشيخوخة و موتا، فى الغابة حرا ،دون خوف ،مليئا بالفرح؟ متى ؟ متى ؟

All hopes and despairs vanish in the voracious, funneling whirlwind of God. God laughs, wails, kills, sets us on fire, and then leaves us in the middle of the way, charred embers. And I rejoice to feel between my temples, in the flicker of an eyelid, the beginning and the end of the world. I condense into a lightning moment the seeding, sprouting, blossoming, fructifying, and the disappearance of every tree, animal, man, star, and god. All Earth is a seed planted in the coils of my mind. Whatever struggles for numberless years to unfold and fructify in the dark womb of matter bursts in my head like a small and silent lightning flash. Ah! let us gaze intently on this lightning flash, let us hold it for a moment, let us arrange it into human speech. Let us transfix this momentary eternity which encloses everything, past and future, but without losing in the immobility of language any of its gigantic erotic whirling.

"What are you looking at, grandfather?" he asked with curiosity.
The old man raised his head and smiled sadly. "At my life flowing and disappearing, son, flowing and disappearing."
"Don't worry, grandfather, it knows where it is going–toward the sea, everyone's life flows toward the sea."
The old man sighed. "Yes, my son, that is why the sea is salty — from the many tears."
He turned back to the flowing stream and did not speak again.