Stephanos of Nikopolis

A well-rounded and proportional soul, but hewn like a dove-tail joint to fit into this world, with its chest puffed up with pride and its head screwed on backwards.

A soul that overused the intellectual quality of slyness, but repented and managed to express a more humble face, though it still needs to develop a more stable foundation.

A soul strung up by the neck and stilted at the legs, yet still capable of elegant artistic expression.

The soul flying through air, stomping ground at one point, bouncing up and pouncing at another point, chomping at understanding, pounding bits and pieces of the truth. It is time to slow and round out our path.

Stepping in tune with the laws of men, not because the laws or men are powerful, but because it is one step in achieving maturity of soul.

The burden is one’s rigidity, not the weight of the load. The flexible soul carries the weight with a minimum of effort, leaving itself free to contemplate its own shape.

An incomplete and inarticulate soul, a conglomeration of generations caged into one another … the caged soul twisted up in its own misunderstanding, maintaining the fantasy of knowing what freedom is, but still having to unravel the root of true freedom.

Can it be the case that what we write is also inscribed on our souls? It can equally be the case that what is inscribed on our souls we write.

God created animals for many reasons and one of them is that we may understand the shape of our souls.

Souls melded together, giving birth to one another, each one with its own shape.