❝Your hand found mine.
Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot.❞
❝I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.❞
❝She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.❞
❝In Shakespeare the birds sing, the bushes are clothed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls, time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and blood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions and ideas, man and humanity, the living and the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds and pearls, dung-hills and charnelhouses, the ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shakespeare.❞
(noun) An untranslatable, German word consisting of welt, meaning world, and schmerz, meaning pain. Just as your head can hurt (kopfschmerzen), or you can suffer from a stomachache (magenschmerzen), the world can hurt too. In its mildest form, this is “world-weariness;” meaning sadness or melancholy at the evils of the world. At the other extreme, it’s an existential pain that leaves you reeling with a damaging, head-clutching despair.