The true human being is the meaning of the universe. He is a dancing star. He is the exploding singularity pregnant with infinite possibilities.

The way the universe evolves in consciousness of itself and causes itself to be. We are just this blessed consciousness, nothing more, nothing less. We are the light inside light that fuses into the atoms of our bodies; we are the fire that whirls across the stellar deeps and dances all things into being.

"What is a human being, then?" "A seed." "A... seed?" "An acorn that is unafraid to destroy itself in growing into a tree."

For it is only in accepting death that one can truly live, and for the human animal, death has always been the great black beast from the abyss to be dreaded or defeated or avoided or hated - but never looked upon clearly face to face.

For war is never some cosmic accident descending upon a people with all the chance and inevitability of asteroids falling like fire out of the heavens, but only the will and work of man.

I am not interested in things getting better; what I want is more: more human beings, more dreams, more history, more consciousness, more suffering, more joy, more disease, more agony, more rapture, more evolution, more life.

Life moved ever outward into infinite possibilities and yet all things were perfect and finished in every single moment, their end attained.