I Hope For Nothing. I Fear Nothing.

I Felt Once More How Simple And Frugal A Thing Is Happiness: A Glass Of Wine, A Roast Chestnut, A Wretched Little Brazier, The Sound Of The Sea. Nothing Else.

What, Then Is Our Duty? It Is To Carefully Distinguish The Historic Moment In Which We Live And To Consciously Assign Our Small Energies To A Specific Battlefield. The More We Are In Phase With The Current Which Leads The Way, The More We Aid Man In His Difficult, Uncertain, Danger-fraught Ascent Toward Salvation.

As Long As There Are Flowers And Children And Birds In The World, Have No Fears: Everything Will Be Fine.

Man Hurries, God Does Not. That Is Why Man's Works Are Uncertain And Maimed, While God's Are Flawless And Sure. My Eyes Welling With Tears, I Vowed Never To Transgress This Eternal Law Again. Like A Tree I Would Be Blasted By Wind, Struck By Sun And Rain, And Would Wait With Confidence; The Long-desired Hour Of Flowering And Fruit Would Come.

There's A Devil Inside Me Which Cries, "you're Not The Son Of The Carpenter, You're The Son Of King David! You Are Not A Man, You Are The Son Of Man Whom Daniel Prophesied." And Still More: "the Son Of God! And Still More: God!