It's Pointless To Cry. One Is Born

It Had To Happen To You, To Concentrate Your Whole Life On One Point, And Then Discover That You Can Do Anything Except Live At That Point.

One Stops Being A Child When One Realizes That Telling One's Trouble Does Not Make It Any Better.

The World, The Future, Is Now Within You As Your Past, As Experience, Skill In Technique, And The Rich, Everlasting Mystery Is Found To Be Childish You That, At The Time, You Made No Effort To Possess.

What Is To Come Will Emerge Only After Long Suffering, Long Silence.

Suffering Is By No Means A Privilege, A Sign Of Nobility, A Reminder Of God. Suffering Is A Fierce, Bestial Thing, Commonplace, Uncalled For, Natural As Air. It Is Intangible; No One Can Grasp It Or Fight Against It; It Dwells In Time - Is The Same Thing As Time; If It Comes In Fits And Starts, That Is Only So As To Leave The Sufferer More Defenseless During The Moments That Follow, Those Long Moments When One Relives The Last Bout Of Torture And Waits For The Next.