Question

Of course, I am insignificant. More insignificant than a grain of corn in the corner of a storeroom; more insignificant than a worthless thorn in a rose garden; more insignificant than any insignificant thing you can imagine. And such is my insignificance that suddenly the world of a hazelnut nails me to my place with wonder, and the sound of the crickets in a friend’s garden in my ear makes the most passionate music of my nights. And you, who are vast and great — so great, equal to God — tell me truly, what fills you with wonder? And what music do you hear like my sweet music, sweet, so sweet, in every moment of the night...