Learn how to pray with all your heart, applying all your energy to concentrate on one specific goal
The thing I want you especially to understand is this feeling of divine revelation. I feel that this structure was “out there” all along I just couldn’t see it. And now I can! This is really what keeps me in the math game– the chance that I might glimpse some kind of secret underlying truth, some sort of message from the gods.
You may say you won’t interfere with another person’s soul, but you do-merely by existing. The snag about it is the practical difficulty, so to speak, of not existing.
Downfall, failure and death cannot be far from any man who made counterfeit friends his ally and support.
What dissolution of the soul you demanded in order to get through one day, what lies, bowings, scrapings, fluency and servility! How you chained me to one spot, one hour, one chair, and sat yourselves down opposite! How you snatched from me the white spaces that lie between hour and hour and rolled them into dirty pellets and tossed them into the waste-paper basket with your greasy paws. Yet those were my life.
Sometimes you have to trust grownups, perhaps more so when they are not there to actually supervise you.
You’re going to come across some truly gifted people in your lifetime that seem to know all the answers. However, they lost their personal relationship with God, along the way. Love them anyways, and do everything you can to help them restore that relationship. They are fighting a war that you don’t know anything about.
It must be borne in mind that the tragedy of life doesn’t lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. It is not a disaster to be unable to capture your ideal, but it is a disaster to have no ideal to capture. It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is sin.
He sits with the pen in his hand, holding himself back from a descent into representations that have no place in the world, on the point of toppling, enclosed within a moment in which all creations lies open at his feet, the moment before he loosens his grip and begins to fall.
Modern English is the Wal-Mart of languages: convenient, huge, hard to
avoid, superficially friendly, and devouring all rivals in its eagerness