In Pain There Is As

The Dyed-in-the-wool Teacher Takes Everything Seriously Only With Respect To His Students--himself Included.

It Is The Evening That Questions Thus From Within Me.

My Abyss Speaks, I Have Turned My Ultimate Depth Inside Out Into The Light.

Spirit Is The Life That Itself Cuts Into Life: With Its Own Torment It Increases Its Own Knowledge. Did You Already Know That?

Out Of Damp And Gloomy Days, Out Of Solitude, Out Of Loveless Words Directed At Us, Conclusions Grow Up In Us Like Fungus: One Morning They Are There, We Know Not How, And They Gaze Upon Us, Morose And Gray. Woe To The Thinker Who Is Not The Gardener But Only The Soil Of The Plants That Grow In Him.