Today I Think That If

Perhaps Kafka Laughed When He Told Stories [. . . ] Because One Isn't Always Equal To Oneself.

In Order For The Wheel To Turn, For Life To Be Lived, Impurities Are Needed, And The Impurities Of Impurities In The Soil, Too, As Is Known, If It Is To Be Fertile. Dissension, Diversity, The Grain Of Salt And Mustard Are Needed: Fascism Does Not Want Them, Forbids Them, And That's Why You're Not A Fascist; It Wants Everybody To Be The Same, And You Are Not. But Immaculate Virtue Does Not Exist Either, Or If It Exists It Is Detestable.

For Me Chemistry Represented An Indefinite Cloud Of Future Potentialities Which Enveloped My Life To Come In Black Volutes Torn By Fiery Flashes, Like Those Which Had Hidden Mount Sinai. Like Moses, From That Cloud I Expected My Law, The Principle Of Order In Me, Around Me, And In The World... I Would Watch The Buds Swell In Spring, The Mica Glint In The Granite, My Own Hands, And I Would Say To Myself: "i Will Understand This, Too, I Will Understand Everything.

To Give A Name To A Thing Is As Gratifying As Giving A Name To An Island, But It Is Also Dangerous: The Danger Consists In One's Becoming Convinced That All Is Taken Care Of And That Once Named, The Phenomenon Has Also Been Explained.

An Enemy Who Sees The Error Of His Ways Ceases To Be An Enemy.