Everything In This Book May Be Wrong.

In The Highest Sense, We Are All Creatures Of Light. And I Have A Very Difficult Time Talking With People Who Are Cynical About The World. "the World Is No Damn Good, And We're All Animals," And That Kind Of Thing. Well, I'm An Animal.

How Can We Resent The Life We've Created For Ourselves?

If Perfection Is Stagnation, Then Heaven Is A Swamp.

I Think The Source Of Our Sorrow And The Source Of Our Joy Are Intimately Entwined. Our Sorrow Is That We Have Forgotten Who We Are, We Have Forgotten We Are One With That Source Of All Life - Absolutely Indestructible, Perfect, Joyful. The Source Of Our Joy Is When We Remember That.

What The Caterpillar Calls The End Of The World The Master Calls A Butterfly.