Love Is Every Bit As Violent And

Truth Is Neither Ojectivity Nor The Balanced View; Truth Is A Selfless Subjectivity.

But Now It Was Spring Again, And Spring Was Almost Unbearable For Sensitive Hearts. It Drove Creation To Its Utmost Limits, It Wafted Its Spice-laden Breath Even Into The Nostrils Of The Innocent.

The Other One He Loved Like A Slave, Like A Madman And Like A Beggar. Why? Ask The Dust On The Road And The Falling Leaves, Ask The Mysterious God Of Life; For No One Knows Such Things. She Gave Him Nothing, No Nothing Did She Give Him And Yet He Thanked Her. She Said: Give Me Your Peace And Your Reason! And He Was Only Sorry She Did Not Ask For His Life.

I Suffered No Pain, My Hunger Had Taken The Edge Off; Instead I Felt Pleasantly Empty, Untouched By Everything Around Me And Happy To Be Unseen By All. I Put My Legs Up On The Bench And Leaned Back, The Best Way To Feel The True Well-being Of Seclusion. There Wasn't A Cloud In My Mind, Nor Did I Feel Any Discomfort, And I Hadn't A Single Unfulfilled Desire Or Craving As Far As My Thought Could Reach. I Lay With Open Eyes In A State Of Utter Absence From Myself And Felt Deliciously Out Of It.

There Was A Rock In Front Of My Hut, A Tall, Gray Rock. By Its Looks It Seemed To Be Well-disposed Toward Me.