A short but striking note from Ernst Jünger’s World War II journals.
Kirchhorst, 22. September 1945
– – – unfamiliar with ancient languages, Greek myth, Roman law, the Bible and Christian ethics, French moralists, German metaphysics, poetry the world over. Dwarves in real life, technical goliaths – and so also overwhelming in criticism, in the destruction lies their mission, hidden from them. Of immense clarity and precision in all mechanical connections; deformed, stunted, blurred in all that has to do with beauty and love. One-eyed titans, spirits of darkness. Deniers and enemies of all creative forces – those who have summed up millions of years of effort without stirring up a blade of grass, a grain of wheat, a mosquito's wing. Far from the poem, from wine, dreams, games, and hopelessly entangled in the heresies of arrogant schoolmasters. But they have their part to play.
"Far from the poem, from wine, dreams, games"
I infer from Jünger's commentary that we ought to hew close to poetry, wine, dreams, games.