That time doth not run backward – that is its animosity: “That which was”: so is the stone which it cannot roll called.
Of all that is written, I love only what a person has written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit.
Not when the truth is filthy, but when it is shallow, doth the discerning one go unwillingly into its waters.
My wisdom hath accumulated long like a cloud, it becometh stiller and darker. So doeth all wisdom which shall one day bear lightnings.