I do not repine. We have shared the incommunicable experience of war; we have felt, we still feel, the passion of life to its top.
The ocean makes its music; the wind does its dance. We hold on. At first we hold on to one another, but then it starts to feel like we are holding on to something even bigger than that. Greater.
We never despised the world or its opinions, we only failed to find out its existence.
Whatever we may think or affect to think of the present age, we cannot get out of it; we must suffer with its sufferings, and enjoy with its enjoyments; we must share in its lot, and, to be either useful or at ease, we must even partake its character.
This business of saving souls had not ethics; every human relationship was shamelessly exploited. In essence, the tribe was asking us whether we shared its feelings; if we refused to join the church, it was equivalent to saying no, to placing ourselves in the position of moral monsters.
We accumulate our opinions at an age when our understanding is at its weakest.
When the international prices rise, we expect the government to cut its share of profit and its revenue earnings and share the burden of the increase with the common man.
Wherever we turn we find that the real obstacles to peace are human will and feeling, human convictions, prejudices, opinions. If we want to get rid of war we must get rid first of all of its psychological causes. Only when this has been done will the rulers of the nations even desire to get rid of the economic and political causes.
The rock, for its part, is not even aware of our existence because we are alive for only a brief instant of its lifespan. To it, we are like flashes in the dark.
Without stories we would go mad. Life would lose its moorings or lose its orientations. even in silence we are living our stories