Die Every Day. Be Reborn Again Every

Yes, There Is Weeping, Even In Heaven, But It Is For Those Who Are Still Crawling On The Earth.

In Religions Which Have Lost Their Creative Spark, The Gods Eventually Become No More Than Poetic Motifs Or Ornaments For Decorating Human Solitude And Walls.

My Principle Anguish And The Source Of All My Joys And Sorrows From My Youth Onward Has Been The Incessant, Merciless Battle Between The Spirit And The Flesh.

Throughout My Life, My Greatest Benefactors Have Been My Dreams And My Travels; Very Few Men, Living Or Dead, Have Helped Me In My Struggle.

I Am A Weak, Ephemeral Creature Made Of Mud And Dream. But I Feel All The Powers Of The Universe Whirling Within Me.