The human being is this night, this empty nothing, that contains everything in its

simplicityan unending wealth of many representations, images, of which none

belongs to himor which are not present. This night, the interior of nature, that
exists herepure selfin phantasmagorical representations, is night all around
it, in which here shoots a bloody headthere another white ghastly apparition,
suddenly here before it, and just so disappears. One catches sight of this night
when one looks human beings in the eyeinto a night that becomes awful.