“Do you think I know what I'm doing? That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself? As much as a pen knows what it's writing, or the ball can guess where it's going next.”
“There is a light seed grain inside. You fill it with yourself, or it dies.”
“Pour out wine till I become a wanderer from myself; for in selfhood and existence I have felt only fatigue.”
“You have mourned over others; now sit down for a while and weep over your own self.”
“When you reach the bottom of the well of your own nature, then you will know that the vileness was from yourself.”
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