A Bad Book About The Love Of

We Love The Things We Pretend To Laugh At.

I Cannot Make The Universe Obey Me. I Cannot Make Other People Conform To My Own Whims And Fancies. I Cannot Make Even My Own Body Obey Me.

To Enter Into The Realm Of Contemplation One Must In A Certain Sense Die: But This Death Is In Fact The Entrance To A Higher Life. It Is A Death For The Sake Of Life, Which Leaves Behind All That We Can Know Or Treasure As Life, As Thought, As Experience, As Joy, As Being.

Our Idea Of God Tells Us More About Ourselves Than About Him.

I Have The Immense Joy Of Being Man, A Member Of A Race In Which God Himself Became Incarnate. As If The Sorrows And Stupidities Of The Human Condition Could Overwhelm Me, Now That I Realize What We All Are. And If Only Everybody Could Realize This! But It Cannot Be Explained. There Is No Way Of Telling People That They Are All Walking Around Shining Like The Sun.