At Every Sunrise I Renounce

I Imagine The Earth When I Am No More: Women's Dresses, Dewy Lilacs, A Song In The Valley. Yet The Books Will Be There On The Shelves, Well Born, Derived From People, But Also From Radiance, Heights.

A True Opium Of The People Is A Belief In Nothingness After Death.

From Life, From The Apple Cut By The Flaming Knife, What Grain Will Be Saved? My Son, Believe Me, Nothing Remains, Only Adult Toil, The Furrow Of Fate In The Palm. Only Toil, Nothing More.

Vulgarized Knowledge Characteristically Gives Birth To A Feeling That Everything Is Understandable And Explained. It Is Like A System Of Bridges Built Over Chasms. One Can Travel Boldly Ahead Over These Bridges, Ignoring The Chasms. It Is Forbidden To Look Down Into Them; But That, Alas, Does Not Alter The Fact That They Exist.

The Death Of A Man Is Like The Fall Of A Mighty Nation That Had Valiant Armies, Captains, And Prophets, And Wealthy Ports And Ships All Over The Seas.