A ruler must learn to persuade and not to compel… he must lay the best coffee hearth to attract the finest men… a good ruler has to learn his world’s language… it’s different for every world… the language of the rocks and growing things… the language you don’t hear just with your ears… the Mystery of Life… not a problem to solve, but a reality to experience…
Understanding must move with the flow of the process.
What if initially they had named you Faith and me Hope, but afterwards they forgot who of us had which name and swapped them around by mistake? You always believe that everything is going to be all right, and your faith helps me.
Experience can never be undone, or knowledge unlearned.
This divergence of experience was not a stumbling block to conversation; indeed, it was what made the conversation interesting.
When people become prisoners of daily habits and happen to be hostages of choices, which they made in the past, but which they finally do not actually want, they experience the need to abandon their corporeal prison at a certain time in life. ( “Corporeal prison” )
Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don’t love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of experience.
I feel part of the environment, not separate from it, as though I’m at home rather than visiting-as though I’m tapped into some eternal omnipresence beyond the transient physical forms.
Nothing ever becomes real ’til it is experienced.
Name and form are simply illusions of separation. Love doesn’t make us blind; rather, it erases the illusions so we can see clearly.
People! Please. Listen. Our life, our bodies are the most authentic clinical record ever! Why do you have to ask for any other one, alien, fake, distorted by illegible handwriting belonging to someone who has never been us and has never tried to understand us? Do you think that is right?