The Externals Are Simply So Many Props;

All Disasters Stem From Us. Why Is There A War? Perhaps Because Now And Then I Might Be Inclined To Snap At My Neighbour. Because I And My Neighbour And Everyone Else Do Not Have Enough Love. Yet We Could Fight War And All Its Excrescences By Releasing Each Day, The Love Which Is Shackled Inside Us, And Giving It A Chance To Live.

We Should Be Willing To Act As A Balm For All Wounds.

Sometimes I Feel That Every Word Spoken And Every Gesture Made Merely Serve To Exacerbate Misunderstandings. Then What I Would Really Like Is To Escape Into A Great Silence And Impose That Silence On Everyone Else.

Ultimately, We Have Just One Moral Duty: To Reclaim Large Areas Of Peace In Ourselves, More And More Peace, And To Reflect It Towards Others. And The More Peace There Is In Us, The More Peace There Will Be In Our Troubled World.

Every Day I Shall Put My Papers In Order And Every Day I Shall Say Farewell. And The Real Farewell, When It Comes, Will Only Be A Small Outward Confirmation Of What Has Been Accomplished Within Me From Day To Day.