Not The Intensity But The Duration Of

And So While Dreams Are The Individual Man's Play With Reality, The Sculptor's Art Is (in A Broader Sense) The Play With Dreams.

Christianity Has Done Its Utmost To Close The Circle And Declared Even Doubt To Be Sin. One Is Supposed To Be Cast Into Belief Without Reason, By A Miracle, And From Then On To Swim In It As In The Brightest And Least Ambiguous Of Elements: Even A Glance Towards Land, Even The Thought That One Perhaps Exists For Something Else As Well As Swimming, Even The Slightest Impulse Of Our Amphibious Nature

The Only Excuse For God Is That He Doesn't Exist.

Socrates And Plato Are Right: Whatever Man Does He Always Does Well, That Is, He Does That Which Seems To Him Good (useful) According To The Degree Of His Intellect, The Particular Standard Of His Reasonableness.

Once Spirit Was God, Then It Became Man, And Now It Is Even Becoming Mob.