I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you’re going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.
Only just now awakening after years of materialism, our soul is infected with the despair born of unbelief, of lack of purpose and aim […] when religion, science, and morality are shaken (the last by the strong hand of Nietzsche) and when outer supports threaten to fall, man withdraws his gaze from externals and turns it inward. Literature, music, and art are the most sensitive spheres in which this spiritual revolution makes itself felt.