Whatever Is Rejected From The Self, Appears

The Angels Are A Strange Genus: They Are Precisely What They Are And Cannot Be Anything Else. They Are In Themselves Soulless Beings Who Represent Nothing But The Thoughts And Intuitions Of Their Lord.

Whenever There Is A Reaching Down Into Innermost Experience, Into The Nucleus Of Personality, Most People Are Overcome By Fear And Many Run Away. . . The Risk Of Inner Experience, The Adventure Of The Spirit, Is In Any Case Alien To Most Human Beings. The Possibility That Such Experience Might Have Psychic Reality Is Anathema To Them.

Normality Is A Fine Ideal For Those Who Have No Imagination.

Plants Were Bound For Good Or Ill To Their Places. They Expressed Not Only Beauty But Also The Thoughts Of God's World, With An Intent Of Their Own And Without Deviation. Trees In Particular Were Mysterious And Seemed To Me Direct Embodiments Of The Incomprehensible Meaning Of Life. For That Reason, The Woods Were The Places Where I Felt Closest To Its Deepest Meaning And To Its Awe-inspiring Workings.

An Inflated Consciousness Is Always Egocentric And Conscious Of Nothing But Its Own Existence. It Is Incapable Of Learning From The Past, Incapable Of Understanding Contemporary Events, And Incapable Of Drawing Right Conclusions About The Future. It Is Hypnotized By Itself And Therefore Cannot Be Argued With. It Inevitably Dooms Itself To Calamities That Must Strike It Dead.