If it were possible to convey what one feels when night falls and the stars come out and one is alone in the vastness, and life’s truths (night truths) begin to march past one by one, somehow swooning or as if the person out in the open were swooning or as if a strange sickness were circulating in the blood unnoticed.
One more experiment. Experiments, facts,truth of the highest instance.
There’s no such thing as facts. Especially here.All this is someone’s idiotic invention.
Don’t you feel it? But you, of course, must find out whose invention it is.
And why. What good can your knowledge do?
The real substratum of myth is not a substratum of thought but of feeling .