The Truly Great Man Is He Who

A Word I Want To See Written On My Grave: I Am Alive Like You, And I Am Standing Beside You. Close Your Eyes And Look Around, You Will See Me In Front Of You.

One May Not Reach The Dawn Save By Path Of Night.

The Sorrowful Spirit Finds Relaxation In Solitude. It Abhors People, As A Wounded Deer Deserts The Herd And Lives In A Cave Until It Is Healed Or Dead.

Extreme Torture Is Mute, And So We Sat Silent, Petrified, Like Columns Of Marble Buried Under The Sand Of An Earthquake. Neither Wished To Listen To The Other Because Our Heart-threads Had Become Weak And Even Breathing Would Have Broken Them.

And What Word Is Knowledge But A Shadow Of Wordless Knowledge?