Sublime

When you have offered

your libation and have prayed, as is right,

hand your comrade the cup of honey wine,

so he may pour out his libation, too,

for he looks like someone who offers prayers

to the immortals.

All men need the gods.

An ant hurries along a threshing floor with its wheat grain, moving between huge stacks of wheat, not knowing the abundance all around. It thinks its one grain is all there is to love.

puritanical

the voice of Being, of perpetual Becoming.

He stood pouting his great lips in some old Roman’s garden two thousand years ago. He saw the sandalled feet treading the alleys and the rose-crowned heads bending over the wine; he knew the old feasts and the old worship, the old Romans and the old gods. As I sit here he speaks to me, in his own dumb way, and describes it all!