Give me that merciful pool of kindness that filters wet the same to every corner one silent teardrop shed. And then give me that human eye that lets men see each other, and give me the human lips and words that let men speak to each other, and give me the human ears and head that can hear the wail of existence as it spills its blood unto death like a young azalea. Gather up all the forces of humiliation and unmercy, Silla, Koguryo the downward streams of one people, one fence for good living, and give me that sky, that land, those friends. 45 Man aspires to immortality because he is not immortal. Drifting, drifting, he aspires toward possession because he does not possess.
Death is the only greatness.
Man rears death, taking his leave in some suitable place. The more desolate, the easier to go. Possessing is the great vanity. Life comes from pain. Born from the penetration of pain we return through that pain.