No! No! No! My suffering does matter. I want to live! I can’t help but mix my life with that of the universe. Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness – how can I not dwell on this brief, cramped view I have of things? This peephole is all I’ve got!
If you are pitched into misery, remember that your days on this earth are counted and you might as well make the best of those you have left.
Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness.
There are always those who take it upon themselves to defend God, as if Ultimate Reality, as if the sustaining frame of existence were something weak and helpless.
seem to bear flowers or
If we citizens do not support our artists then we sacrifice our immagination on the altar of cruel reality & we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams.” (ppXII)
Everything in me, right down to the pores of my skin, was expressing joy.
You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don’t, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.
I was as surprised as a flower that sees for the first time a bee coming towards it
Right away, death is word-eating.