Believing In Progress Does Not

All Knowledge, The Totality Of All Questions And Answers, Is Contained In The Dog.

I Have Hardly Anything In Common With Myself And Should Stand Very Quietly In A Corner, Content That I Can Breathe.

Should I Be Grateful Or Should I Curse The Fact That Despite All Misfortune I Can Still Feel Love, An Unearthly Love But Still For Earthly Objects.

I Can Love Only What I Can Place So High Above Me That I Cannot Reach It.

I Wanted To Escape The Unrest, To Shut Out The Voices Around Me And Within Me, So I Write.