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— Rainer Maria Rilke"O how all things are far removed and long have passed away. I do believe the star, whose light my face reflects, is dead and has been so for many thousand years. I had a vision of a passing boat and heard some voices saying disquieting things. I heard a clock strike in some distant house... but in which house?... I long to quiet my anxious heart and stand beneath the sky's immensity. I long to pray... And one of all the stars must still exist. I do believe that I would know which one alone endured, and which like a white city stands at the ray's end shining in the heavens."
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At the devil's booth are all things sold. Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold.
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The good writer seems to be writing about himself, but has his eye always on that thread of the Universe which runs through himself and all things.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
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