"To those who think as we do, all things themselves are dancing: they come and offer their hands and laugh and flee- and come back. Everything goes, everything comes back; eternally rolls the wheel of being. Everything dies, everything blossoms again; eternally runs the year of being. Everything breaks, everything is joined anew; eternally the same house of being is built. Everything parts, everything greets every other thing again; eternally the ring of being remains faithful to itself. In every Now, being begins; round every Here rolls the sphere There, The center is everywhere. Bent is the path of eternity." ...

"A long twilight limped before me, a sadness, weary to death, drunken with death speaking with a yawning mouth. 'Eternally recurs the man of whom you are weary, the small man' - thus yawned my sadness and dragged its feet and could not go to sleep. Man's earth turned into a cave for me, its chest sunken; all that is living became human mold and bones and musty paste to me. My sighing sat on all human tombs and could not longer get up; my sighing and questioning croaked and gagged and gnawed and wailed by day and night: 'Alas, man recurs eternally! The small man recurs eternally!'"