But A Sort Of Rupture-in Anguish-leaves Us

Pleasure Only Starts Once The Worm Has Got Into The Fruit; To Become Delightful, Happiness Must Be Tainted With Poison.

But A Sort Of Rupture-in Anguish-leaves Us At The Limit Of Tears: In Such A Case We Lose Ourselves, We Forget Ourselves And Communicate With An Elusive Beyond.

It Is Through An "intimate Cessation Of All Intellectual Operations" That The Mind Is Laid Bare. If Nor, Discourse Maintains It In Its Little Complacency. ... The Difference Between Inner Experience And Philosophy Resides Principally In This: That In Experience, ... What Counts Is No Longer The Statement Of Wind, But The Wind.

The Sacred Demands The Violation Of What Is Normally The Object Of Terrified Respect.

The Difficulty That Contestation Must Be Done In The Name Of An Authority Is Resolved This: I Contest In The Name Of Contestation What Experience Itself Is.