I'll just have to pray...

This life of mine which I am supposedly living, perhaps is not merely a piece of the entirety of existence, but is in a certain sense the whole; only this whole is not so constituted that it can be surveyed in one single glance. This, as I know, is the closest thing I would call sacred. A mystic formula which is really so simple and so clear: This is me. I am in the east and in the west. I am below and above. I am this whole world.

So that means he can throw himself flat on the ground, stretched out upon the soil, with a certain conviction that he will be okay. He is as firmly established, as invulnerable and indeed a thousand times more complex. As surely he will be engulfed by tomorrow, so surely will he bring himself forth anew to striving and suffering. And not merely some day: but now, today, every day he is bringing himself forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day he swallows the world a thousand times over. For eternally and always there is only now, one and the same now; the present is the only thing that has no end.