Nothing Feeds The Center Of Being So

I Think Best With A Pencil In My Hand.

It Is A Difficult Lesson To Learn Today-to Leave One's Friends And Family And Deliberately Practice The Art Of Solitude For An Hour Or A Day Or A Week. And Yet, Once It Is Done, I Find There Is A Quality To Being Alone That Is Incredibly Precious. Life Rushes Back Into The Void, Richer, More Vivid, Fuller Than Before.

One Must Go Through Periods Of Numbness That Are Harder To Bear Than Grief.

Prison Life Taught Him How Little One Can Get Along With, And What Extraordinary Spiritual Freedom And Peace Such Simplification Can Bring. I Remember Again, Ironically, That Today More Of Us In The World Have The Luxury Of Choice Between Simplicity And Complication Of Life. And For The Most Part, We, Who Could Choose Simplicity, Choose Complication. War, Prison, Survival Periods, Enforce A Form Of Simplicity On Us. The Monk And The Nun Choose It Of Their Own Free Will. But If One Accidentally Finds It, As I Have For A Few Days, One Finds Also The Serenity It Brings.

There Is No Sin Punished More Implacably By Nature Than The Sin Of Resistance To Change.