And Now That I Don't Want To

The Fact Is I Don't Lead A Simple Enough Inner Life. I Indulge In Excesses, Bacchanalia Of The Spirit. Perhaps I Identify Too Much With Everything I Read And Study. Someone Like Dostoevsky Still Shatters Me.

Despite Everything, Life Is Full Of Beauty And Meaning.

One Must Also Accept That One Has 'uncreative' Moments. The More Honestly One Can Accept That, The Quicker These Moments Will Pass.

All Disasters Stem From Us. Why Is There A War? Perhaps Because Now And Then I Might Be Inclined To Snap At My Neighbour. Because I And My Neighbour And Everyone Else Do Not Have Enough Love. Yet We Could Fight War And All Its Excrescences By Releasing Each Day, The Love Which Is Shackled Inside Us, And Giving It A Chance To Live.

The More Peace There Is In Us, The More Peace There Will Be In Our Troubled World.