One Is A Member Of A Country,

What He Had Yearned To Embrace Was Not The Flesh But A Down Spirit, A Spark, The Impalpable Angel That Inhabits The Flesh.

On A Day Of Burial There Is No Perspective--for Space Itself Is Annihilated. Your Dead Friend Is Still A Fragmentary Being. The Day You Bury Him Is A Day Of Chores And Crowds, Of Hands False Or True To Be Shaken, Of The Immediate Cares Of Mourning. The Dead Friend Will Not Really Die Until Tomorrow, When Silence Is Round You Again. Then He Will Show Himself Complete, As He Was--to Tear Himself Away, As He Was, From The Substantial You. Only Then Will You Cry Out Because Of Him Who Is Leaving And Whom You Cannot Detain.

It Is The Duty Of The Ship's Captain To Make Port, Cost What It May.

Make Your Life A Dream, And A Dream A Reality.

That Is The Hardest Thing Of All. It Is Much Harder To Judge Yourself Than To Judge Others. If You Succeed In Judging Yourself, It's Because You're Truly A Wise Man.