If I Know What Love Is, It

He Had Thrown Himself Away, He Had Lost Interest In Everything, And Life, Falling In With His Feelings, Had Demanded Nothing Of Him. He Had Lived As An Outsider, An Idler And Onlooker, Well Liked In His Young Manhood, Alone In His Illness And Advancing Years. Seized With Weariness, He Sat Down On The Wall, And The River Murmured Darkly In His Thoughts.

How Foolish To Wear Oneself Out In Vain Longing For Warmth! Solitude Is Independence.

Siddhartha Stopped Fighting His Fate This Very Hour, And He Stopped Suffering.

Everyone Can Reach His Goal, If He Can Think, Wait And Fast.

The World Is Not Imperfect Or Slowly Evolving Along A Long Path To Perfection. No, It Is Perfect At Every Moment; Every Sin Already Carries Grace Within It, All Small Children Are Potential Old Men, All Sucklings Have Death Within Them, All Dying People — Eternal Life.