Surely, Life Is Not Merely A Job,

That Is, When The Mind Ceases To Create, Then There Is Creation.

Love Is Not Of The Mind, It Is Not In The Net Of Thought, It Cannot Be Sought Out, Cultivated, Cherished; It Is There When The Mind Is Silent And The Heart Is Empty Of The Things Of The Mind.

Human Beings, Each One, Right Through The World, Go Through Great Agonies, The More Sensitive, The More Alert, The More Observant, The Greater The Suffering, The Anxiety, The Extraordinary Sense Of Insoluble Problems.

There Is No Tranquility In Ideas.

How Is The Mind Which Functions On Knowledge How Is The Brain Which Is Recording All The Time To End, To See The Importance Of Recording And Not Let It Move In Any Other Direction? Very Simply: You Insult Me, You Hurt Me, By Word, Gesture, By An Actual Act; That Leaves A Mark On The Brain Which Is Memory. That Memory Is Knowledge, That Knowledge Is Going To Interfere In My Meeting You Next Time Obviously.