Stopping is a spiritual art. It is the refuge where we drink life in.

Until we look from the bottom up we have nothing.

I felt a trembling along my skin, a treaveling current that moved up my spine, down my arms, pulsing out from my fingertips. I was practically radiating. The body knows things a long time before the mind catches up to them. I was wondering what my body knew that I didn't.

The True Self is not our creation, but God's. It is the self we are in our depths. It is our capacity for divinity and transcendence.

How could I choose someone who would force me to give up my own small reach for meaning? I chose myself, and without consolation.

Were all yearning for a wedge of sky, aren't we? I suspect God plants these yearnings in us so we'll at least try and change the course of things. We must try, that's all.

T. Ray said 'Who do you think you are? Julias Shakespeare?' The man sincerely thought that was Shakespeare's first name, and if you think I should have corrected him, you are ignorant about the art of survival.