I Was Out Of My Bed In

"for Even The Most Childish Intoxication With Progress Will Soon Be Forced To Recognize That Writing And Books Have A Function That Is Eternal. It Will Become Evident That Formulations In Words And The Handling On Of These Formulations Through Writing Are Not Only Important Aids But Actually The Only Means By Which Humanity Can Have A History And Continuing Consciousness Of Itself."

Siddhartha Stopped Fighting His Fate This Very Hour, And He Stopped Suffering.

You Must Find Your Dream, Then The Way Becomes Easy.

Beautiful Was This World, Looking At It Thus, Without Searching, Thus Simply, Thus Childlike.

He Was Taught By The River. Incessantly, He Learned From It. Most Of All, He Learned From It To Listen, To Pay Close Attention With A Quiet Heart, With A Waiting, Opened Soul, Without Passion, Without A Wish, Without Judgement, Without An Opinion.