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Og alle bøkene han leser- teologi naturligvis, men også eventyr, poesi, vitenskapelig litteratur, filosofi, romaner, vitseblader og det rene søppel - alt bærer preg av av søkende virksomhet. Han bretter eselører både oppe og nede, og han understreker og kommenterer i et avansert system av blått, rødt og sort blekk, med blyant og forskjellige tegn. Hva bøkene enn handler om, forklarer han, kan de inneholde noe som tenner en gnist som kan gjøre bildet av ham selv og verden klarere.

De fleste mennesker har slik hast etter å nå nytelsen at de haster forbi den.

(sitat fra Enten - Eller)

Jeg, Søren Kierkegaard, konstaterer han, trenger ikke å søke meningen med livet utenfor meg selv. Jeg trenger ikke følge noen autoriteter eller tro på noen lære. Jeg kan selv bestemme hva som er rett og hva som er galt. Sannheten om mitt liv er ikke å finne noe annet sted enn i mitt eget indre.

Noen er morgengretten hele dagen!

Og resten av året også!

Sløkkje tørst

Det var nok ikkje ein edelstein,
inga stor, blå perle du fann,

men ein liten glattslipt gråstein
du kan leggje under tunga.

Tonekyss

Tungene våre møtest
i ein skjelvande kyss

så hovudet vert fylt
av søt musikk.

Solkyss

Eg er så lite mogen, så grøn.
Eg raudnar i karmen

i varmen,
når sola tar meg i armane.

Tao beveger seg
til alle kanter samtidig -
det er flytende og føyelig i sitt innerste vesen.

Tao er alle tings opphav under solen:
Og alt strømmer ut

av Ingenting.

De går nesten i ett med skumringen.
Sitter urørlige og tause og tar farvel med dagen.
Tenker tanker som ikke slapp til da dagen var den herskende.

It's good to feel you close in the night, Love,
invisible in your sleep, earnestly nocturnal,
while I untangle my confusions
like bewildered nets.

Absent, your heart sails through dreams,
but your body breathes, abandoned like this,
searching for me without seeing me, completing my sleep,
like a plant that propagates in the dark.

When you arise, alive, tomorrow, you'll be someone else:
but something is left from the lost frontiers of the night,
from that being and nothing where we find ourselves,

something that brings us close in the light of life,
as if the seal of the darkness
branded its secret creatures with a fire.

And now you're mine. Rest with your dreams in my dream.
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
and you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber.

No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
we will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me,
only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.

Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
and let their soft drifting signs drop away;
your eyes closed like two gray wings, and I move

after, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny.
Without you, I am your dream, only that, and that is all.

[...]
There in the branches I will recognize your hair,
your image ripening in the leaves,
bringing the petals nearer my thirst,

and my mouth will fill with the taste of you,
the kiss that rose from the earth
with your blood, the blood of a lover's fruit.

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because -
because - I don't know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

[...]
oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is -
sand, time, the tree of the rain,

everything is alaive so that I can be alive:
without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.

[...]
That is why, when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine

that geysers flooding from deep in its vault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald

[...]
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

[...]
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry
trees.