“What is your own object, little Psyche? What are you yourself for? For what are flowers, men, the stars? Who knows?”
“Astra. . . .”
“No, Astra knows nothing. Her knowledge is founded on a fundamental error. All her knowledge is like a tower, which will fall down.”
“I should like to know much. I should like to know more. I should like to seek far through the universe. I long for what is most beautiful. . . . But I do not know what it is. Perhaps you yourself are what is most beautiful, Chimera. . . . But why are you now spreading out your wings?”
“I must go.”
“So soon? Whence? Oh, why are you going so soon, splendid Chimera?”
“I must. I must traverse illimitableness. I have already stayed here too long.”
“Stay a little longer. . . .”
“I cannot. I may not.”
“Who compels you, O powerful horse, quick as lightning? . . . .”
“Power.”
“What is power?”
“God. . . .”
