Every Day I Shall Put My Papers

Ought We Not, From Time To Time, Open Ourselves Up To Cosmic Sadness? ... Give Your Sorrow All The Space And Shelter In Yourself That Is Its Due, For If Everyone Bears His Grief Honestly And Courageously, The Sorrow That Now Fills The World Will Abate. But If You Do Not Clear A Decent Shelter For Your Sorrow, And Instead Reserve Most Of The Space Inside You For Hatred And Thoughts Of Revenge-from Which New Sorrows Will Be Born For Others-then Sorrow Will Never Cease In This World And Will Multiply.

I Don’t Want To Be Anything Special. I Only Want To Try To Be True To That In Me Which Seeks To Fulfill Its Promise.

It Is The Only Thing We Can Do. Each Of Us Must Turn Inward And Destroy In Himself All That He Thinks He Ought To Destroy In Others. And Remember That Every Atom Of Hate That We Add To This World Makes It Sill More Inhospitable

Such Words As 'god' And 'death' And 'suffering' And 'eternity' Are Best Forgotten. We Have To Become As Simple And As Wordless As The Growing Corn Or The Falling Rain. We Must Just Be.

A Large Group Of Us Were Crowded Into The Gestapo Hall, And At That Moment The Circumstances Of All Our Lives Were The Same. All Of Us Occupied The Same Space, The Men Behind The Desk No Less Than Those About To Be Questioned. What Distinguished Each Of Us Was Only Our Inner Attitude.