Yes, There Is Weeping, Even In Heaven,

A Magical Portal Opened Inside My Mind And Conducted Me Into An Astonishing World. [...] Before This Moment I Had Divined But Had Never Known With Such Positiveness That The World Is Extremely Large And That Suffering And Toil Are The Companions And Fellow Warriors Not Only Of Cretan, But Of Every Man. [...] That By Means Of Poetry All This Suffering And Effort Could Be Transformed Into Dream; No Matter How Much Of The Ephemeral Existed, Poetry Could Immortalize It By Turning It Into Song.

It Doesn't Matter Whether Or Not You Have A Head, You Must Wear The Right Sort Of Hat

Within This Arena, Which Grows More Stable Night After Day, Generations Work And Love And Hope And Vanish. New Generations Tread On The Corpses Of Their Fathers, Continue The Work Above The Abyss And Struggle To Tame The Dread Mystery. How? By Cultivating A Single Field, By Kissing A Woman, By Studying A Stone, An Animal, An Idea.

As Long As There Are Flowers And Children And Birds In The World, Have No Fears: Everything Will Be Fine.

There Is No Harsher Means Of Punishment, Than To Answer Malice With Kindness.