The Act Of Love . . .

Heroism Is Accessible. Happiness Is More Difficult.

Men Die And They Are Not Happy.

I Was Born Poor And Without Religion, Under A Happy Sky, Feeling Harmony, Not Hostility, In Nature. I Began Not By Feeling Torn, But In Plenitude.

We All Carry Within Us Places Of Exile, Our Crimes, Our Ravages. Our Task Is Not To Unleash Them On The World; It Is To Transform Them In Ourselves And Others.

Man Is Always Prey To His Truths. Once He Has Admitted Them, He Cannot Free Himself From Them.