Lord, May The Pain Be

I Have At This Moment So Many Fundamental Thoughts, So Many Truly Metaphysical Things To Say, That I Suddenly Get Tired And Decide Not To Write Any More, Not To Think Any More, But To Allow The Fever Of Speaking To Make Me Sleepy, And With My Eyes Closed, Like A Cat, I Play With Everything I Could Have Said.

As We Wash Our Body So We Should Wash Destiny, Change Life As We Change Clothes.

Between Me And Life Is A Faint Glass. No Matter How Sharply I See And Understand Life, I Cannot Touch It.

I Believe That Saying A Thing Is To Keep Its Virtues And Take Away Its Terror.

I'm Sick Of Everything, And Of The Everythingness Of Everything.