His melancholy grew until it became a song, then a lament, then a curse, then a whirlwind. One Sabbath he came down the stairs with a strange fire in his eyes. Slamming the table, he shouted, "There is no judgement and there is no judge!' His those who heard him were unable to think or speak. There was horror in their hearts. The community was split, and each split was the cause of still more. Some of the people said, 'the precipice of his understanding became to sheer for us to climb, and he became lonely'. For he had retired to his room, left his beard untrimmed, and accepted his meals only through the crack in the door. The first revelation is like a crown in the sky. The last is like a tide of blood and black bile. Where you have gone, no-one can follow. You must come back to them, like a stranger who remembers the town of his birth.