A general loathing of a gang or sect usually has some sound basis in instinct.
Colloquial poetry is to the real art as the barber's wax dummy is to sculpture.
The sum of human wisdom is not contained in any one language.
Somebody said that I am the last American living the tragedy of Europe.
We do NOT know the past in chronological sequence. It may be convenient to lay it out anesthetized on the table with dates pasted on here and there, but what we know we know by ripples and spirals eddying out from us and from our own time.
The real meditation is ... the meditation on one's identity. Ah, voilà une chose!! You try it. You try finding out why you're you and not somebody else. And who in the blazes are you anyhow? Ah, voilà une chose!