When Everything Goes Wrong, What A Joy

A Person Needs A Little Madness, Or Else They Never Dare Cut The Rope And Be Free.

Man Hurries, God Does Not. That Is Why Man's Works Are Uncertain And Maimed, While God's Are Flawless And Sure. My Eyes Welling With Tears, I Vowed Never To Transgress This Eternal Law Again. Like A Tree I Would Be Blasted By Wind, Struck By Sun And Rain, And Would Wait With Confidence; The Long-desired Hour Of Flowering And Fruit Would Come.

This, I Thought, Is How Great Visionaries And Poets See Everything- As If For The First Time. Each Morning They See A New World Before Their Eyes; They Do Not Really See It, They Create It.

When Shall I At Last Retire Into Solitude Alone, Without Companions, Without Joy And Without Sorrow, With Only The Sacred Certainty That All Is A Dream? When, In My Rags—without Desires—shall I Retire Contented Into The Mountains? When, Seeing That My Body Is Merely Sickness And Crime, Age And Death, Shall I—free, Fearless, And Blissful—retire To The Forest? When? When, Oh When?

The Dual Substance Of Christ - The Yearning, So Human, So Superhuman, Of Man To Attain God. [...] Has Always Been A Deep Inscrutable Mystery To Me. [...] My Principle Anguish And Source Of All My Joys And Sorrows From My Youth Onward Has Been The Incessant, Merciless Battle Between The Spirit And The Flesh. [...] And My Soul Is The Arena Where These Two Armies Have Clashed And Met.