Rocks are space, and space is illusion.

But I remember seeing a mess of leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of 'Oh my God, we're all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do

I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.

What difference does it make after all?--anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what’s heaven? what’s earth? All in the mind.

My shoes are clean from walking in the rain.

Your Buddhism has made you mean Ray and makes you even afraid to take your clothes off for a simple healthy orgy

I took a straight picture that made me look like a thirty-year-old Italian who'd kill anybody who said something against his mother.