I shall begin my story with an experience I had when I was ten and attended our small town's Latin school.

The world was so beautiful when regarded like this, without searching, so simply, in such a childlike way. Moons and stas were beautiful, beautiful were bank and stream, forest and rocks, goat and gold-bug, flower and butterfly. So lovely, so delightful to go through the world this way, so like a child, awake, open to what is near, without distrust.

Love can be begged, bought, or received as a gift, one can find it in the street, but one cannot steal it.

She stood before him and surrendered herself to him and sky, forest, and brook all came toward him in new and resplendent colors, belonged to him, and spoke to him in his own language. And instead of merely winning a woman he embraced the entire world and every star in heaven glowed within him and sparkled with joy in his soul. He had loved and had found himself. But most people love to lose themselves.

That is where my dearest and brightest dreams have ranged — to hear for the duration of a heartbeat the universe and the totality of life in its mysterious, innate harmony.

I have always been a great dreamer; in dreams I am more active than in my real life, and these shadows sapped me of health and energy.

...and the vessel was not full, his intellect was not satisfied, his soul was not at peace, his heart was not still.