Most People Write Off Their Longing For

I Feel Like A Small Battlefield In Which The Problems, Or Some Of The Problems, Of Our Time Are Being Fought Out. All One Can Hope To Do Is Keep Oneself Humbly Available, To Allow Oneself To Be A Battlefield. After All, The Problems Must Be Accommodated, Have Somewhere To Struggle And Come To Rest And We, Poor Little Humans, Must Put Our Inner Space At Their Service And Not Run Away.

Everything Is Chance, Or Nothing Is Chance. If I Believed The First, I Would Be Unable To Live On, But I Am Not Yet Fully Convinced Of The Second.

I Think What Weakens People Most Is Fear Of Wasting Their Strength.

A Desire To Kneel Down Sometimes Pulses Through My Body, Or Rather It Is As If My Body Has Been Meant And Made For The Act Of Kneeling. Sometimes, In Moments Of Deep Gratitude, Kneeling Down Becomes An Overwhelming Urge, Head Deeply Bowed, Hands Before My Face.

We Human Beings Cause Monstrous Conditions, But Precisely Because We Cause Them We Soon Learn To Adapt Ourselves To Them. Only If We Become Such That We Can No Longer Adapt Ourselves, Only If, Deep Inside, We Rebel Against Every Kind Of Evil, Will We Be Able To Put A Stop To It. ... While Everything Within Us Does Not Yet Scream Out In Protest, So Long Will We Find Ways Of Adapting Ourselves, And The Horrors Will Continue.