In Every Grain Of Wheat There Lies

The Saint Endeavors To Recover A Gift Which He Has Lost; The Sinner Tries To Obtain Something Which Was Never His. In Brief, He Repeats The Fall.

Here Then Is The Pattern In My Carpet, The Sense Of The Eternal Mysteries, The Eternal Beauty Hidden Beneath The Crust Of Common And Commonplace Things; Hidden And Yet Burning And Glowing Continually If You Care To Look With Purged Eyes.

It Is All Nonsense, To Be Sure; And So Much The Greater Nonsense Inasmuch As The True Interpretation Of Many Dreams - Not By Any Means Of All Dreams - Moves, It May Be Said, In The Opposite Direction To The Method Of Psycho-analysis.

For, Contrary To The Common Opinion, It Is The Wealthy Who Are Greedy Of Wealth; While The Populace Are To Be Gained By Talking To Them About Liberty, Their Unknown God. And So Much Are They Enchanted By The Words Liberty, Freedom, And Such Like, That The Wise Can Go To The Poor, Rob Them Of What Little They Have, Dismiss Them With A Hearty Kick, And Win Their Hearts And Their Votes For Ever, If Only They Will Assure Them That The Treatment Which They Have Received Is Called Liberty.

We Both Wondered Whether These Contradictions That One Can't Avoid If One Begins To Think Of Time And Space May Not Really Be Proofs That The Whole Of Life Is A Dream, And The Moon And Stars Bits Of Nightmare.