He was a seafarer. He sailed with freight ships to different countries along the coasts of Europe, Africa and South America. I asked him if he had ever experienced a bad storm. “I have experienced many storms”, he said. “I have experienced some storms where I thought: “We will never survive this!” And he stood before me and had survived, and could tell me about the adventures he had experienced.
She loved going to the disco. When her parents picked her up, they wondered each time: “How can you bear it with that noise?” But she knew: the music is only loud at the beginning. Soon the music is no longer loud. The ear adjusts the volume accordingly. In bed in the evenings she loved to listen to the radio, turned down low. Okay, her parents had forbidden it when she had school the next day, but she turned the volume down so low that even she hardly heard anything. She knew: the music is only low at the beginning. Soon, quiet is no longer quiet. She can turn the radio down many more times, and she still hears everything. The ear adjusts the volume accordingly.
One day they asked the master: “What do you do if you run out of parables?” “I tell a parable about a man who ran out of parables”, the master replied. “Tell us this parable!” his disciples begged. “Not now”, the master replied. “For as long as there is this one, I have not yet run out of parables.”
“I’m full”, I said. “But there’s always room for a slice of cake”, they replied. “I don’t want any”, I said. “But it tastes good”, they explained. “I need to lose weight”, I said. “But you don’t need to”, they said. “My doctor said I have a fatty liver”, I said. “We know someone with a fatty liver who lived to be over 90”, they responded. “No thank you, but could I have another cup of coffee?” I asked. “With milk, please”. Then they gave me coffee with milk and left me in peace. Since then, I only use these few words.
The guests told these and also some other stories to the king on the seventh day. When the sun’s rays had sunk in the west and the last storyteller of the day had finished his tale, the king scratched his head. “How can these stories be of use to us?” he asked out loud. “Possibly not at all”, murmured a scribe quietly. “Unless he who hears them now gets up and crosses the bridge.”
Our ferry left from Copenhagen. It sailed homewards in the direction of Germany. I stood at the railing on the upper deck. At the quay stood a pretty, delicate young woman. She waved at me. I am sure she meant me. Did I know her? No. She was a stranger to me. But the young woman’s gesture touched me. “Wait!” I wanted to say “stop the ship!” It became clear to me a ship such as this is very heavy. Even the helmsman couldn’t bring a ship of this size to a halt in seconds. I waved back, and the ship sailed on.
“Your legs look all puffed up! They look terrible! You need to go to hospital right away!” Erwin’s friends said when they saw him. “Not necessary”, Erwin replied. “It is necessary! Come on, get ready, we’ll drive you there.” “Tomorrow, maybe.” “You need to go to hospital. Promise us that you will go!” “Okay. I will go tomorrow.” “Will you give us a house key so we can get your pyjamas and things, in case you need anything in hospital?” Erwin handed it to his friends. Then they left. It was the last time they saw him alive.
“How do you find your poems?” a famous poet was once asked. “From whence come dreams?” he replied. “They ascend like bubbles in a pond whose ground I do not see. The ones which I discover before they burst are mine.”
Have you ever stood at the foot of a cliff where seagulls live, and have you listened to them cry? They cry in so many ways… It is an impressive sound when thousands of seagulls fly around a cliff, and fill the air with their cries. But you do not only hear them cry. You also hear the gentle sounds that they make when they are mating. You also hear the screaming sounds of the young birds when they are just hatched. Their call is clear, they demand what they need. It is as if they call for justice: “Here I am! I want to grow and become strong!” You can see how lovingly the seagull parents care for their youngsters. Again and again they fly away and come back with a fish in their beaks. Why do they do this, day after day? “Instinct” some scientists say. I call it love. For again and again they are in search of that which will strengthen their young. They do not care if it is raining or snowing of if there is a storm. They search for food for the young seagulls. I have also heard: If a seagull cannot care for its young ones, often another one will do the task. It will then treat them as their own. It will not ask about rain or storm or snow. It flies for these young birds that will soon no longer be young birds. Yes, soon they themselves will fly, confident in their skills to glide in the air high above the sea. It is good to grow up on a cliff where so many other seagulls are living.
Herr Gundolf said: “Yesterday when I thought of the death of my mother thirty-three years ago, I had to weep.” I asked him: “Does that make you wonder?” He shook his head: “It doesn’t make me wonder. It just surprises me.”
“Wife”, spoke the baker, “I am getting older and my strength is lessening. All my life have I baked the bread for this village. Yes, people have come from afar to buy my rolls. The day will come when I will have to lay aside my bowl of dough, and who will then continue with my trade?” For they had no children. “Go search for a young man” the woman said, “who can help you with your work, and whom you can teach all about the art of baking bread. When you are old and can no longer work, he shall continue with the shop, and you shall look at him with pride as if he were your son.” As she said it, so it was done. The baker spread the news that he was seeking an apprentice who would like to learn his trade. In the following days, four young men came into his shop, wanting to become a baker. He found it difficult to choose and asked his wife again. She said: “Tell all of them to come again!” And so he did. The first man introduced himself to the baker’s wife. She asked: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “I like to get up early, and go to bed before the night is falling. And, what is more, a baker is among the first to hear the news of the village and of its surroundings.” The second man came and she asked him: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “My parents died early, and I need to care for my wife and children.” The third man came and she asked him: “Why do you want to learn a baker’s trade?” “I deem it an honour to bake for men the bread that God has given us.” The fourth man came and she asked him naught. “Him we take”, she told her husband. “Why should we take him?” “When he arrived, he inhaled eagerly the scent of bread.”