‘Wer reitet so spät, Durch Nacht und Wind? Es ist der Vater Mit seinem Kind.’

What you get for incest: madness, blindness, death.

Perhaps if you know you are insane then you are not insane. Or you are becoming sane, finally. Waking up.

Back at last to seeing. Highest ranking of the senses: Greek scale of priority. He turned the silver triangle each and every way; he viewed it from every extra rem standpoint.

Death at each moment, one avenue which is open to us at any point. And eventually we choose it, in spite of ourselves. Or we give up and take it deliberately.

What is it I hold, while there is still time?

I want to comprehend. I have to. But he knew he never would. Just be glad, he thought. And keep moving.

He was obsessed with the idea that the universe was only apparently real, an illusion behind which the truth might dwell.

They want to be the agents, not the victims, of history. They identify with God’s power and believe they are godlike. That is their basic madness. They are overcome by some archetype; their egos have expanded psychotically so that they cannot tell where they begin and the godhead leaves off. It is not hubris, not pride; it is inflation of the ego t