It's a good thing to move with a reserve of massive stillness in the soul, for example, to travel. Then everything seems bright, sensible, everything will work out fine.
But it's only good to "sit in place" if there's a reserve of massive movement in the soul. Kant spent his entire life sitting: but he had so much movement in his soul that his "sitting" moved worlds.
Something is flowing in my soul. Always. Constantly. What? Why? Who knows? - certainly not the author.
What do you love, eccentric? My dream. (the wagon; about the myself).
"Fallen Leaves". Volume 1.
Life comes from "unstable equilibriums". If the equilibriums were stable everywhere, there would be no life. But unstable equilibrium is anxiety, "beyond my comfort zone," danger. The world is eternally anxious, and that is what it lives on.
The soul is pained by itself, it is pained by the world, pained by the past, the future ... "and would not look at it."
It cuts Black. It cuts Dark.
What is it?
No one knows.
More love; more love, give love. I gasp in the cold. Ooh! How cold it is everywhere.
That which is, it seems to me, is incredible, but what is "not" seems real. Hence freedom, torment, and irrelevancy (mine).
"Fallen Leaves". Volume 2.
Most of all the thoughts come in a street car. The street car shakes, I shake, my brain shakes, and from the brain the thoughts spill out.
There is incessant noise within my soul. (my psychological makeup).