At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman, and these hills, the softness of the sky, the outline of these trees at this very minute lose the illusory meaning with which we had clothed them, henceforth more remote than a lost paradise. The primitive hostility of the world rises up to face us across millennia ( Read more... )

To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face ( Read more... )