We Are Not Permitted To Choose The

Praise Those Of Your Critics For Whom Nothing Is Up To Standard.

What Makes Loneliness An Anguish Is Not That I Have No One To Share My Burden, But This: I Have Only My Own Burden To Bear.

Like The Bee, We Distill Poison From Honey For Our Self-defense--what Happens To The Bee If It Uses Its Sting Is Well Known.

At Every Moment You Choose Yourself. But Do You Choose *your* Self? Body And Soul Contain A Thousand Possibilities Out Of Which You Can Build Many I's. But In One Of Them Is There A Congruence Of The Elector And The Elected. Only One--which You Will Never Find Until You Have Excluded All Those Superficial And Fleeting Possibilities Of Being And Doing With Which You Toy, Out Of Curiosity Or Wonder Or Greed, And Which Hinder You From Casting Anchor In The Experience Of The Mystery Of Life, And The Consciousness Of The Talent Entrusted To You Which Is Your *i*.

Do Not Seek Death. Death Will Find You.