Every Victory Contains The Germ Of Future

Individuation Is To Divest The Self Of False Wrappings.

Everyone Carries A Shadow, And The Less It Is Embodied In The Individual's Conscious Life, The Blacker And Denser It Is. At All Counts, It Forms An Unconscious Snag, Thwarting Our Most Well-meant Intentions.

Somewhere There Was Once A Flower, A Stone, A Crystal, A Queen, A King, A Palace, A Lover And His Beloved, And This Was Long Ago, On An Island Somewhere In The Ocean 5,000 Years Ago. . . . Such Is Love, The Mystic Flower Of The Soul. This Is The Center, The Self.

Between The Dreams Of Night And Day There Is Not So Great A Difference.

We Are Not What Happened To Us, We Are What We Wish To Become.