The Soul Exceeds Its Circumstances.

You Who Think Of Us: They Lived Only In Delusion... Know That We The People Of The Book, Will Never Die!

From Life, From The Apple Cut By The Flaming Knife, What Grain Will Be Saved? My Son, Believe Me, Nothing Remains, Only Adult Toil, The Furrow Of Fate In The Palm. Only Toil, Nothing More.

I Am Composed Of Contradictions, Which Is Why Poetry Is A Better Form For Me Than Philosophy

You See How I Try To Reach With Words What Matters Most And How I Fail.

The Soul Exceeds Its Circumstances.