Somehow I Had Learned From Thoreau, Who

Only Very Coarse Persons Wanted Wars.

Religion Was Their Meat And Their Excitement, Their Mental Food And Their Emotional Pleasure.

The Rich Are Always Afraid.

The Concept Of 'momism' Is Male Nonsense. It Is The Refuge Of A Man Seeking Excuses For His Own Lack Of Virility. I Have Listened To Many Women In Various Countries, And I Have Never Found A Woman Who Willingly 'mothers' Her Husband. The Very Idea Is Repulsive To Her. She Wants To Mother The Children While They Are Young, But Never Their Fathers. True, She May Be Forced Into The Role Of Mother By A Man's Weaknesses And Childishness, And Then She Accepts The Role With Dignity And Patience, Or With Anger And Impatience, But Always With A Secret, Profound Sadness Unexpressed And Inexpressible.

Endurance Of Inescapable Sorrow Is Something Which Has To Be Learned Alone. And Only To Endure Is Not Enough. Endurance Can Be A Harsh And Bitter Root In One's Life, Bearing Poisonous And Gloomy Fruit, Destroying Other Lives. Endurance Is Only The Beginning. There Must Be Acceptance And The Knowledge That Sorrow Fully Accepted Brings Its Own Gifts. For There Is An Alchemy In Sorrow. It Can Be Transmuted Into Wisdom, Which, If It Does Not Bring Joy, Can Yet Bring Happiness.