Chapter 13 13

181 The flower of my book, shedding its forgotten petals. In the twilight the flower ripens into a golden fruit of memory. 182 I am like the road at night, quietly listening to the footsteps of memory. 183 The evening sky seems to me like a window, like a lamp, and behind the lamp a time wait. 184 People who are too busy doing good things find no time to do good things. 185 I am autumn cloud, empty without rain, but in the ripe rice field, see me full Reality. 186 They envy, they kill, and people praise them. God, however, was shy and hastily buried his memory under the green grass.

187 The toes are the fingers that have forsaken them. 188 Darkness travels to light, but the blind travels to death. 189 Puppy suspects that the big universe is plotting to usurp its position. 190 Sit still, my heart, and raise not your dust. Let the world find its way to you. 191 Before the arrow is about to shoot, the bow whispers to the arrow - "Your freedom is mine." 192 In your laughter, woman, is the music of the fountain of life. 193 A heart full of reason is like a knife full of sharp edges. To bleed on the hands of those who wield it. 194 God loves the lights of the world more than his own great stars.

195 The world is a stormy world tamed by the music of beauty.