„Да станеш човек е изкуство. - Novalis

How can a person have a sense of something if he does not have the germ of it within himself. What I am to understand must develop organically within me — and what I seem to learn is only nourishment — stimulation of the organism.

I turn away from the light to the holy, inexpressible, mysterious night. Far away lies the world − sunk into a
deep vault, its place waste and lonely. Across my heart strings a low melancholy plays. I will fall in drops of dew and merge with the ashes. Distant memories, the wishes of youth, the dreams of childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a long life – all arise dressed in grey, like evening mist after sunset. In other lands light has
pitched its merry tents. And if it never returned to its children, who would await its dawning with the innocence of faith?

Life is a disease of the spirit; a working incited by Passion. Rest is peculiar to the spirit.