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How i long to dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in my hair... but... The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness; The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light; In a profound sense every man has two halves to his being; he is not one person so much as two persons trying to act in unison. I believe that in the heart of each human being there is something which I can only describe as a "child of darkness" who is equal and complementary to the more obvious "child of light." Though my soul may set in darkness, It will rise in perfect light, I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night; When I die I shall be content to vanish into nothingness.... No show, however good, could conceivably be good forever.... I do not believe in immortality, and have no desire for it... From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity...

Grab This Layout: Our Love Will Not Die, Gothic
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Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery, like the idle, curved tunnels of leaf miners on the surface of a leaf. We must somehow take a wider view, look at the whole landscape, really see it, and describe what's going on here. Then we can at least wail the right question into the swaddling band of darkness, or, if it comes to that, choir the proper praise... that's what interest me most the mystery of life.