We Don't Get Wounded Alone

Somewhere There Was Once A Flower, A Stone, A Crystal, A Queen, A King, A Palace, A Lover And His Beloved, And This Was Long Ago, On An Island Somewhere In The Ocean 5,000 Years Ago. . . . Such Is Love, The Mystic Flower Of The Soul. This Is The Center, The Self.

It Is A Fact That Cannot Be Denied: The Wickedness Of Others Becomes Our Own Wickedness Because It Kindles Something Evil In Our Own Hearts.

But What Will He Do When He Sees Only Too Clearly Why His Patient Is Ill; When He Sees That It Arises From His Having No Love, But Only Sexuality; No Faith, Because He Is Afraid To Grope In The Dark; No Hope, Because He Is Disillusioned By The World And By Life; And No Understanding, Because He Has Failed To Read The Meaning Of His Own Existence?

Our Blight Is Ide­olo­gies — They Are The Long-expected Antichrist!

The Capacity For Inner Dialogue Is A Touchstone For Outer Objectivity.