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Perhaps creating something is nothing but an act of remembrance.

How telling that people have defined the human to be the common element & the site where everyone can find & recognize each other. One has to learn to realize that it is precisely the human that makes us lonely.

We do not acquire wealth by letting something remain & wilt in our hands but only by letting everything pass through their grasp as if through the festive gate of return & homecoming. Our hands ought not to be a coffin for us but a bed sheltering the twilight slumber & dreams of the things held there, out of whose depths their dearest secrets speak.

Been doing immersion reading with the ebook & also the audiobook version of this narrated by Ethan Hawke, which has been great so far!

The body remains a house unaware of its rooms.

Left off on Chapter 1 Translation & Cluster Sentences

Left off on Chapter 2 Arguments

Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble, & my eyes swim with the remembrance, but then a resistless, almost frantic impulse urged me forward, I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit.

This strangely are our souls constructed, & by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin…
It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual. Destiny was too potent, & her immutable laws had decreed my utter & terrible destruction.