Sometimes I Try My Hand

The Externals Are Simply So Many Props; Everything We Need Is Within Us.

Such Words As 'god' And 'death' And 'suffering' And 'eternity' Are Best Forgotten. We Have To Become As Simple And As Wordless As The Growing Corn Or The Falling Rain. We Must Just Be.

Ought We Not, From Time To Time, Open Ourselves Up To Cosmic Sadness? ... Give Your Sorrow All The Space And Shelter In Yourself That Is Its Due, For If Everyone Bears His Grief Honestly And Courageously, The Sorrow That Now Fills The World Will Abate. But If You Do Not Clear A Decent Shelter For Your Sorrow, And Instead Reserve Most Of The Space Inside You For Hatred And Thoughts Of Revenge-from Which New Sorrows Will Be Born For Others-then Sorrow Will Never Cease In This World And Will Multiply.

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.

That I Should Die Next Week, I Would Still Be Able To Sit At My Desk All Week And Study With Perfect Equanimity, For I Know Now That Life And Death Make A Meaningful Whole.