A world without hope, but no despair

Surely every one realizes, at some point along the way, that he is capable of living a far better life than the one he has chosen.

When you know what men are capable of you marvel neither at their sublimity nor their baseness. There are no limits in either direction apparently.

Giving and receiving are at bottom one thing, dependent on whether one lives open or closed. Living openly one becomes a medium, a transmitter; living thus, as a river, one experiences life to the full, flows along with the current of life, and dies in order to live again as an ocean.

The full and joyful acceptance of the worst in oneself may be the only sure way of transforming it.

There is something else to be said about this immediate, spontaneous way of working, and that is this: in such moments, one is playing at the game of creation.

History is the myth, the true myth, of man's fall made manifest in time.