At One Time I Say To Myself:

For There Is But One Problem - The Problem Of Human Relations. We Forget That There Is No Hope Or Joy Except In Human Relations.

Of What Worth Are Convictions That Bring Not Suffering?

When We Think That The Machine Will Harm Man, Then It Is Perhaps Because We Are Not Yet Capable Of Judging The Rapid Changes It Has Brought About. We Hardly Feel At Home In This Landscape Of Mines And Power Stations. We Have Just Moved Into This New Home That We Have Not Even Finished Yet. Everything Around Us Has Changed So Fast - Personal Relations, Working Conditions, Habits. Even Our State Of Mind Is In Turmoil.

You're Beautiful, But You're Empty...one Couldn't Die For You. Of Course, An Ordinary Passerby Would Think My Rose Looked Just Like You. But My Rose, All On Her Own, Is More Important Than All Of You Together, Since She's The One I've Watered. Since She's The One I Put Under Glass, Since She's The One I Sheltered Behind The Screen. Since She's The One For Whom I Killed The Caterpillars (except The Two Or Three Butterflies). Since She's The One I Listened To When She Complained, Or When She Boasted, Or Even Sometimes When She Said Nothing At All. Since She's My Rose.

Perfection Is Finally Attained Not When There Is No Longer Anything To Add, But When There Is No Longer Anything To Take Away, When A Body Has Been Stripped Down To Its Nakedness.