The Days Hardened With Cold And Boredom

Ordinary Facts Are Arranged Within Time, Strung Along Its Length As On A Thread. There They Have Their Antecedents And Their Consequences, Which Crowd Tightly Together And Press Hard One Upon The Other Without Any Pause. This Has Its Importance For Any Narrative, Of Which Continuity And Successiveness Are The Soul.

The Days Hardened With Cold And Boredom Like Last Year's Loaves Of Bread. One Began To Cut Them With Blunt Knives Without Appetite, With A Lazy Indifference.

One Thing Must Be Avoided At All Costs: Narrow-mindedness, Pedantry, Dull Pettiness.

As We Manipulate Everyday Words, We Forget That They Are Fragments Of Ancient And Eternal Stories, That We Are Building Our Houses With Broken Pieces Of Sculptures And Ruined Statues Of Gods As The Barbarians Did.

There Are Things Than Cannot Ever Occur With Any Precision. They Are Too Big And Too Magnificent To Be Contained In Mere Facts. They Are Merely Trying To Occur, They Are Checking Whether The Ground Of Reality Can Carry Them. And They Quickly Withdraw, Fearing To Loose Their Integrity In The Frailty Of Realization.