You Must Be In Tune With The

I'll Do What Little I Can In Writing. Only It Will Be Very Little. I'm Not Capable Of It; And If I Were, You Would Not Go Near It At All. For If You Did, You Would Hardly Bear To Live

You've Got To Bear It In Mind That Nobody That Ever Lived Is Specially Privileged; The Axe Can Fall At Any Moment, On Any Neck, Without Any Warning Or Any Regard For Justice. You've Got To Keep Your Mind Off Pitying Your Own Rotten Luck And Setting Up Any Kind Of A Howl About It. You've Got To Remember That Things As Bad As This And A Hell Of A Lot Worse Have Happened To Millions Of People Before And That They've Come Through It And That You Will Too.

Understanding, And Action Proceeding From Understanding And Guided By It, Is One Weapon Against The World's Bombardment, The One Medicine, The One Instrument By Which Liberty, Health, And Joy May Be Shaped . . . In The Individual, And In The Race.

And A Human Being Whose Life Is Nurtured In An Advantage Which Has Accrued From The Disadvantage Of Other Human Beings, And Who Prefers That This Should Remain As It Is, Is A Human Being By Definition Only, Having Much More In Common With The Bedbug, The Tapeworm, The Cancer, And The Scavengers Of The Deep Sea.

And Somewhat As In Blind Night, On A Mild Sea, A Sailor May Be Made Aware Of An Iceberg, Fanged And Mortal, Bearing Invisibly Near, By The Unwarned Charm Of Its Breath, Nothingness Now Revealed Itself: That Permanent Night Upon Which The Stars In Their Expiring Generations Are Less Than The Glinting Of Gnats, And Nebulae, More Trivial Than Winter Breath; That Darkness In Which Eternity Lies Bent And Pale, A Dead Snake In A Jar, And Infinity Is The Sparkling Of A Wren Blown Out To Sea; That Inconceivable Chasm Of Invulnerable Silence In Which Cataclysms Of Galaxies Rave Mute As Amber.