Reach What You Cannot

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

When Shall I At Last Retire Into Solitude Alone, Without Companions, Without Joy And Without Sorrow, With Only The Sacred Certainty That All Is A Dream? When, In My Rags—without Desires—shall I Retire Contented Into The Mountains? When, Seeing That My Body Is Merely Sickness And Crime, Age And Death, Shall I—free, Fearless, And Blissful—retire To The Forest? When? When, Oh When?

Beauty Is Merciless. You Do Not Look At It, It Looks At You And Does Not Forgive.

The Struggle Between God And Man Breaks Out In Everyone, Together With The Longing For Reconciliation. Most Often This Struggle Is Unconscious And Short-lived. A Weak Soul Does Not Have The Endurance To Resist The Flesh For Very Long. It Grows Heavy, Becomes Flesh Itself, And The Contest Ends. But Among Responsible Men, Men Who Keep Their Eyes Riveted Day And Night Upon The Supreme Duty, The Conflict Between Flesh And Spirit Breaks Out Mercilessly And May Last Until Death.

We're Going To Start With Small, Easy Things; Then, Little By Little We Shall Try Our Hand At The Big Things. And After That, After We Finish The Big Things, We Shall Undertake The Impossible.