The Eye Doesn't See Any Shapes, It

What I Possess, Seems Far Away To Me, And What Is Gone Becomes Reality.

Where The Light Is Brightest, The Shadows Are Deepest.

All Perishable Is But An Allegory.

The Web Of This World Is Woven Of Necessity And Chance. Woe To Him Who Has Accustomed Himself From His Youth Up To Find Something Necessary In What Is Capricious, And Who Would Ascribe Something Like Reason To Chance And Make A Religion Of Surrendering To It.

In Art, To Express The Infinite One Should Suggest Infinitely More Than Is Expressed.