Here, Beside This Great Black Surface That

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.

Sometimes My Day Is Crammed Full Of People And Talk And Yet I Have The Feeling Of Living In Utter Peace And Quiet. And The Tree Outside My Window, In The Evenings, Is A Greater Experience Than All Those People Put Together.

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.

And Now That I Don't Want To Own Anything Any More And Am Free, Now I Suddenly Own Everything, Now My Inner Riches Are Immeasurable.

Most People Write Off Their Longing For Friends And Family As So Many Losses In Their Lives, When They Should Count The Fact That Their Heart Is Able To Long So Hard And To Love So Much As Among Their Greatest Blessings.