When One Is Not Understood One Should

Science Is The Art Of Creating Suitable Illusions Which The Fool Believes Or Argues Against, But The Wise Man Enjoys For Their Beauty Or Their Ingenuity, Without Being Blind To The Fact That They Are Human Veils And Curtains Concealing The Abysmal Darkness Of The Unknowable

When A Pueblo Indian Does Not Feel In The Right Mood, He Stays Away From The Men's Council. When An Ancient Roman Stumbled On The Threshold As He Left The House, He Gave Up His Plans For The Day. This Seems To Us Senseless, But Under Primitive Conditions Of Life Such An Omen Inclines One At Least To Be Cautious. When I Am Not In Full Control Of Myself, My Bodily Movements May Be Under A Certain Constraint; My Attention Is Easily Distracted; I Am Somewhat Absent-minded. As A Result I Knock Against Something, Stumble, Let Something Fall, Or Forget Something.

What Is Essential In A Work Of Art Is That It Should Rise Far Above The Realm Of Personal Life And Speak To The Spirit And Heart Of The Poet As Man To The Spirit And Heart Of Mankind.

My Own Understanding Is The Sole Treasure I Possess, And The Greatest. Though Infinitely Small And Fragile In Comparison With The Powers Of Darkness, It Is Still A Light, My Only Light.

Even The Enlightened Person Remains What He Is, And Is Never More Than His Own Limited Ego Before The One Who Dwells Within Him, Whose Form Has No Knowable Boundaries, Who Encompasses Him On All Sides, Fathomless As The Abysms Of The Earth And Vast As The Sky