I Had To Make A Confession Of

No Concept Is A Carrier Of Life.

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.

The More Veiled Becomes The Outside World, Steadily Losing In Colour, Tone And Passions, The More Urgently The Inner World Calls Us

Every Father Is Given The Opportunity To Corrupt His Daughter's Nature, And The Educator, Husband, Or Psychiatrist Then Has To Face The Music. For What Has Been Spoiled By The Father Can Only Be Made Good By A Father, Just As What Has Been Spoiled By The Mother Can Only Be Repaired By A Mother. The Disastrous Repetition Of The Family Pattern Could Be Described As The Psychological Original Sin, Or As The Curse Of The Atrides Running Through The Generations.

Every Human Being Is Inherently A Unique And Individual Form Of Life. He Or She Is Made Like That. But There Is Something Which A Person Can Do Over And Above The Given Material Of Her Nature, And That Is She Can Become Conscious Of What Makes Her The Person She Is, And He Can Work Consciously Toward Relating What Is Himself To The World Around Him.