To exist, the triangle demands three complementary elements: love, power and danger. Mixed incautiously, these elements, like those in physics, are volatile and potentially explosive.
All the political seers and sorcerers seem to be agreed that the coming Presidential campaign will be full of bitterness, and that most of it will be caused by religion. I count Prohibition as a part of religion, for it has surely become so in the United States. The Prohibitionists, seeing all their other arguments destroyed by the logic of events, have fallen back upon the mystical doctrine that God is somehow on their side, and that opposing them thus takes on the character of blasphemy.http://www.mencken.org/text/txt001/elliott.leo.1998.mencken-01.htm
The real thing is not the goal, the real thing is the beauty of the movement. The real thing is not reaching, the real thing is the journey. Remember, the real thing is the journey, the very traveling. It is so beautiful, why bother about the goal? And if you are too bothered about the goal, you will miss the journey, and the journey is life - the goal can only be death.
The spiritual journey does not consist of arriving at a new destination where a person gains what he did not have, or becomes what he is not. It consists in the dissipation of one's own ignorance concerning one's self and life, and gradual growth of that understanding, which begins a spiritual awakening. The finding of God is coming to one's self.
WHAT IS LIFE?Life is an Adventure ... Dare itLife is a Beauty ... Praise itLife is a Challenge ... Meet itLife is a Duty ... Perform itLife is a Love ... Enjoy itLife is a Tragedy ... Face itLife is a Struggle ... Fight itLife is a Promise ... Fulfill itLife is a Game ... Play itLife is a Gift ... Accept itLife is a Journey ... Complete itLife is a Mystery ... Unfold itLife is a Goal ... Achieve itLife is an Opportunity ... Take itLife is a Puzzle ... Solve itLife is a Song ... Sing itLife is a Sorrow ... Overcome itLife is a Spirit ... Realize it
Life is a journey up a spiral staircase; as we grow older we cover the ground covered we have covered before, only higher up; as we look down the winding stair below us we measure our progress by the number of places where we were but no longer are. The journey is both repetitious and progressive; we go both round and upward.
Who knows what true loneliness is -- not the conventional word, but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion. Now and then a fatal conjunction of events may lift the veil for an instant. For an instant only. No human being could bear a steady view of moral solitude without going mad.