"Wretched is the nourishment of my mind, as long as it is nourished only by the senses. External vestiges and notions, shadows of shadows, magnified to monstrous proportions (for shadows always grow monstrously huge where there is little light)--is this in fact my mind?
Yet again I surveyed the vast field of my mind, where with the speed of spiders entire cities, like cobwebs, had been constructed from shadows--and reasoned with my inner self:

I have discovered that all the cogitation of my mind amounts to nothing more than constructing frail structures out of frail shadows. Would these shadows not gradually grow smaller to the degree that the light of the mind grows stronger? Yet is not even my mind nothing more than a frail shadow of the mind of God?"

Nikolai Velimirovich

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