Antoine de Saint-Exupéry·1943'What makes the desert beautiful,' said the little prince, 'is that somewhere it hides a well.'
William Shakespeare·1611We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
William James·1909Out of my experience, such as it is (and it is limited enough) one fixed conclusion dogmatically emerges, and that is this, that we with our lives are like islands in the sea, or like trees in the forest. The maple and the pine may whisper to each other with their leaves. ... But the trees also commingle their roots in the darkness underground, and the islands also hang together through the ocean's bottom. Just so there is a continuum of cosmic consciousness, against which our individuality builds but accidental fences, and into which our several minds plunge as into a mother-sea or reservoir.
Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.
One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.
Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.
