As Life Becomes Harder And More Threatening,

I Do Believe It Is Possible To Create, Even Without Ever Writing A Word Or Painting A Picture, By Simply Molding One’s Inner Life. And That Too Is A Deed.

Sometimes I Try My Hand At Turning Out Small Profundities And Uncertain Short Stories, But I Always End Up With Just One Single Word: God.

By 'coming To Terms With Life' I Mean: The Reality Of Death Has Become A Definite Part Of My Life; My Life Has, So To Speak, Been Extended By Death, By My Looking Death In The Eye And Accepting It, By Accepting Destruction As Part Of Life And No Longer Wasting My Energies On Fear Of Death Or The Refusal To Acknowledge Its Inevitability. It Sounds Paradoxical: By Excluding Death From Our Life We Cannot Live A Full Life, And By Admitting Death Into Our Life We Enlarge And Enrich It.

To Live Fully, Outwardly And Inwardly, Not To Ignore The External Reality For The Sake Of The Inner Life, Or The Reverse, That's Quite A Task

When I Pray, I Never Pray For Myself, Always For Others, Or Else I Hold A Silly, Naive, Or Deadly Serious Dialogue With What Is Deepest Inside Me, Which For The Sake Of Convenience I Call God. Praying To God For Something For Yourself Strikes Me As Being Too Childish For Words. To Pray For Another's Well-being Is Something I Find Childish As Well; One Should Only Pray That Another Should Have Enough Strength To Shoulder His Burden. If You Do That, You Lend Him Some Of Your Own Strength.