When You Give Yourself, You Receive More

We Are Prudent People. We Are Afraid To Let Go Of Our Petty Reality In Order To Grasp At A Great Shadow.

It Is In Your Act That You Exist, Not In Your Body. Your Act Is Yourself, And There Is No Other You.

On A Day Of Burial There Is No Perspective--for Space Itself Is Annihilated. Your Dead Friend Is Still A Fragmentary Being. The Day You Bury Him Is A Day Of Chores And Crowds, Of Hands False Or True To Be Shaken, Of The Immediate Cares Of Mourning. The Dead Friend Will Not Really Die Until Tomorrow, When Silence Is Round You Again. Then He Will Show Himself Complete, As He Was--to Tear Himself Away, As He Was, From The Substantial You. Only Then Will You Cry Out Because Of Him Who Is Leaving And Whom You Cannot Detain.

Love Does Not Consist In Gazing At Each Other, But In Looking Outward Together In The Same Direction.

Si Quelqu'un Veut Un Mouton, C'est La Preuve Qu'il En Existe Un. (if Somebody Wants A Sheep, That Is A Proof That One Exists.)