#alighthouseofwords

...our ultimate moral principles can become so completely accepted by us, that we treat them, not as universal imperatives but as matters of fact; they have the same obstinate indubitability.

Whoever loves has wounded eyes. The arrow has torn the pupils. And has forgotten, at the start of the journey, to store in the saddlebags the sandalwood leaves that would heal them. The desert has no end, she thinks. The night summons the devils, seductively they point to the always equivocal roads, the promising landscapes that in the morning will be sand and stones, and stones and sand. There’ll be no piety for these eyes. Condemned to look always at what’s not there, they should have been pulled out by their roots, and like two drops of water, been offered as mirror to the stones.

And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.

Master Dizang asked Fayan, “Where have you come from?” “I pilgrimage aimlessly,” replied Fayan. “What is the nature of your pilgrimage?” asked Dizang. “I don't know,” replied Fayan. “Not knowing is most intimate,” remarked Dizang.

Today, I climb the highest mountain I have ever climbed And I turned to look at ruins I had left behind And you, where were you so far removed from any truth I lost you, didn't I? First I think I lost myself

The night isn't dark; the world is dark. Stay with me a little longer. Your hands on the back of the chair--- that's what I'll remember. Before that, lightly stroking my shoulders. Like a man training himself to avoid the heart.

And before that, you are holding me because you are going away. These are statements you are making, not questions needing answers.

Genius is more OFTEN found in a CRACKED pot than a whole one