Everything happens for me, not to me.

As far as intellect, what else is there? Without intellect, no story and no world.

There is no mistake in nature.

I can just talk about my world, and people relate to it because it's so familiar to them. It's them, it's not me. They're hearing themselves.

It's difficult to seek other people's love. It's deadly. In seeking it you lose what is genuine. This is the prison we create for ourselves as we seek what we already have.

The moment it begins to question itself, the mind becomes so clear that it starts working with itself rather than with the body's identification.

Fear is always the result of an unquestioned past imagined as a future.