I Don't Think I Have Nerves Of

We Have To Fight Them Daily, Like Fleas, Those Many Small Worries About The Morrow, For They Sap Our Energies. We Make Mental Provisions For The Days To Come, And Everything Turns Out Differently, Quite Differently. Sufficient Unto The Day. The Things That Have To Be Done Must Be Done, And For The Rest We Must Not Allow Ourselves To Become Infested With Thousands Of Petty Fears And Worries.

The Fact Is I Don't Lead A Simple Enough Inner Life. I Indulge In Excesses, Bacchanalia Of The Spirit. Perhaps I Identify Too Much With Everything I Read And Study. Someone Like Dostoevsky Still Shatters Me.

That I Should Die Next Week, I Would Still Be Able To Sit At My Desk All Week And Study With Perfect Equanimity, For I Know Now That Life And Death Make A Meaningful Whole.

Become Simple And Live Simply, Not Only Within Yourself But Also In Your Everyday Dealings. Don’t Make Ripples All Around You, Don’t Try To Be Interesting, Keep Your Distance, Be Honest, Fight The Desire To Be Thought Fascinating By The Outside World.

All Disasters Stem From Us. Why Is There A War? Perhaps Because Now And Then I Might Be Inclined To Snap At My Neighbour. Because I And My Neighbour And Everyone Else Do Not Have Enough Love. Yet We Could Fight War And All Its Excrescences By Releasing Each Day, The Love Which Is Shackled Inside Us, And Giving It A Chance To Live.