Truth Lies Within A Little And Certain

And A Human Being Whose Life Is Nurtured In An Advantage Which Has Accrued From The Disadvantage Of Other Human Beings, And Who Prefers That This Should Remain As It Is, Is A Human Being By Definition Only, Having Much More In Common With The Bedbug, The Tapeworm, The Cancer, And The Scavengers Of The Deep Sea.

Understanding, And Action Proceeding From Understanding And Guided By It, Is One Weapon Against The World's Bombardment, The One Medicine, The One Instrument By Which Liberty, Health, And Joy May Be Shaped . . . In The Individual, And In The Race.

The Deadliest Blow The Enemy Of The Human Soul Can Strike Is To Do Fury Honor. . . . Official Acceptance Is The One Unmistakable Symptom That Salvation Is Beaten Again, And Is The One Surest Sign Of Fatal Misunderstanding, And Is The Kiss Of Judas.

And Somewhat As In Blind Night, On A Mild Sea, A Sailor May Be Made Aware Of An Iceberg, Fanged And Mortal, Bearing Invisibly Near, By The Unwarned Charm Of Its Breath, Nothingness Now Revealed Itself: That Permanent Night Upon Which The Stars In Their Expiring Generations Are Less Than The Glinting Of Gnats, And Nebulae, More Trivial Than Winter Breath; That Darkness In Which Eternity Lies Bent And Pale, A Dead Snake In A Jar, And Infinity Is The Sparkling Of A Wren Blown Out To Sea; That Inconceivable Chasm Of Invulnerable Silence In Which Cataclysms Of Galaxies Rave Mute As Amber.

And No Matter What, There's Not One Thing In This World *or* The Next That We Can Do Or Hope Or Guess At Or Wish Or Pray That Can Change It Or Help It One Iota. Because Whatever Is, Is. That's All. And All There Is Now Is To Be Ready For It, Strong Enough For It, Whatever It May Be. That's All. That's All That Matters. It's All That Matters Because It's All That's Possible.