We All Have Within Us A Center

It Is Easy To Be Nice, Even To An Enemy - From Lack Of Character.

I Don't Know Who, Or What, Put The Question, I Don't Know When It Was Put. I Don't Even Remember Answering. But At Some Moment I Did Answer Yes To Someone, Or Something,and From That Hour I Was Certain That Existence Is Meaningful And That, Therefore, My Life, In Self-surrender, Had A Goal.

The Longest Journey Is The Journey Inward.

At Every Moment You Choose Yourself. But Do You Choose *your* Self? Body And Soul Contain A Thousand Possibilities Out Of Which You Can Build Many I's. But In One Of Them Is There A Congruence Of The Elector And The Elected. Only One--which You Will Never Find Until You Have Excluded All Those Superficial And Fleeting Possibilities Of Being And Doing With Which You Toy, Out Of Curiosity Or Wonder Or Greed, And Which Hinder You From Casting Anchor In The Experience Of The Mystery Of Life, And The Consciousness Of The Talent Entrusted To You Which Is Your *i*.

Like Wind-- In It, With It, Of It. Of It Just Like A Sail, So Light And Strong That, Even When It Is Bent Flat, It Gathers All The Power Of The Wind Without Hampering Its Course. Like Light-- In Light, Lit Through By Light, Transformed Into Light. Like The Lens Which Disappears In The Light It Focuses. Like Wind. Like Light. Just This--on These Expanses, On These Heights.