Salvific Sifting

Qualitative changes suddenly become quantitative changes. From all of Marxism which I once thought attractive enough, I find only this dictum remaining in the realm of my opinions. Water grows colder and colder and colder, and suddenly it's ice. The day grows darker and darker, and suddenly it's night. Man ages and ages, and suddenly he's dead. Quantitative changes suddenly become qualitative changes; differences in degree lead to differences in kind.
— John Barth, The Floating Opera, p. 179.

....I now all at once found myself confronted with a new and unsuspected world. This (I can tell you now more clearly than I could have told you then) was the essence of it: if there are no absolutes, then a value is no less authentic, no less genuine, no less compelling, no less "real," for its being relative! It is one thing to say "Values are only relative"; quite another, and more thrilling, to remove the pejorative adverb and assert "There are relative values!" These, at least, we have, and if they are all we have, then in no way whatsoever are they inferior. A corner for you there!
— John Barth, Ibid., p. 271.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
     The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly — and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
— The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (The Five Authorized Versions), Edward FitzGerald (tr.), from First Version, 1859, #7, p. 21.

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
     Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End!
— Ibid., Second Version, 1868, #26, p. 72.

                                  #46
So when at last the Angel of the darker drink
Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink,
     And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff it — do not shrink
                                 #47
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
     The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
                                #48
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh but the long long while the World shall last,
     Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.
— Ibid., #46-48, pp. 78-79.

For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
Of what they will and what they will not — each
     Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.
— Ibid., #77, p. 89.

Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll
Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,
     Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls
Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages roll.
— Ibid., #107, p. 99

                               #12
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a loaf of Bread — and Thou
     Beside me singing in the Wilderness —
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
                              #13
Some for the Glories of this World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
     Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
— Ibid., Fifth Version, 1889, #12-13, pp. 25-26.

                              #16
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes — or it prospers; and anon,
     Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two — is gone.
                              #17
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
     How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode hie destined Hour, and went his way.
— Ibid., #16-17, p. 127.

                             #25
Alike for those who for To-Day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
     A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries,
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There."
                             #26
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so wisely — they are thrust
     Like foolish Prophets forth; their words to Scorn
Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
— Ibid., #25-26, p. 130.