The Gods Are Fond Of The Cryptic

We Search For Happiness Everywhere, But We Are Like Tolstoy's Fabled Beggar Who Spent His Life Sitting On A Pot Of Gold, Under Him The Whole Time. Your Treasure--your Perfection--is Within You Already. But To Claim It, You Must Leave The Buy Commotion Of The Mind And Abandon The Desires Of The Ego And Enter Into The Silence Of The Heart.

We All Seem To Get This Idea That, In Order To Be Sacred, We Have To Make Some Massive, Drastic Change Of Character, That We Have To Renounce Our Individuality. To Know God, You Only Need To Renounce One Thing - Your Sense Of Division From God

I Had Long Ago Learned That When You Are The Giant, Alien Visitor To A Remote And Foreign Culture It Is Sort Of Your Job To Become An Object Of Ridicule. It’s The Least You Can Do, Really, As A Polite Guest.

I Equal Parts Loved Him And Could Not Stand Him. I Couldn't Wake Him To Share In My Distress.

Being A Woman Did Not Look Enviable To Me, Even When It Looked Admirable. It Looked Like Nonstop Sacrifice And Service. Because It Was. Being A Woman Seemed Vulnerable And Sad. Even The Strong Women I Knew - And They Were All Strong - Had Earned Their Strength Through Enduring Huge Disappointments And Tremendous Struggles.