...of All The Kinds Of

Better To Be Caught In Sudden, Complete Catastrophe Than To Be Gnawed By The Cancer Of Imagination.

Suddenly The Full Long Wail Of A Ship's Horn Surged Through The Open Window And Flooded The Dim Room—a Cry Of Boundless, Dark, Demanding Grief; Pitch-black And Glabrous As A Whale's Back And Burdened With All The Passions Of The Tides, The Memory Of Voyages Beyond Counting, The Joys, The Humiliations: The Sea Was Screaming.

There Is No Virtue In Curiosity. In Fact, It Might Be The Most Immoral Desire A Man Can Possess.

According To Eshin's Essentials Of Salvation, The Ten Pleasures Are But A Drop In The Ocean When Compared To The Joys Of The Pure Land.

It Is A Rather Risky Matter To Discuss A Happiness That Has No Need Of Words.