We Like To Have Work To Do,

It Is Not That The Child Lives In A World Of Imagination, But That The Child Within Us Survives And Starts Into Life Only At Rare Moments Of Recollection, Which Makes Us Believe, And It Is Not True, That, As Children, We Were Imaginative?

When A Man Mourns For Someone Who Has Played Him False, It Is Not For Love Of Her, But For His Own Humiliation At Not Having Deserved Her Trust.

But The Real, Tremendous Truth Is This: Suffering Serves No Purpose Whatever.

Lessons Are Not Given, They Are Taken.

Reality Is A Prison, Where One Vegetates And Always Will. All The Rest - Thought, Action - Is Just A Pastime, Mental Or Physical. What Counts Then, Is To Come To Grips With Reality. The Rest Can Go.