A Poor Man With Nothing In His

I Know The Compassion Of Others Is A Relief At First. I Don't Despise It. But It Can't Quench Pain, It Slips Through Your Soul As Through A Sieve. And When Our Suffering Has Been Dragged From One Pity To Another, As From One Mouth To Another, We Can No Longer Respect Or Love It.

I Can Now See To The Bottom Of My Own Depths, There Is Nothing Stopping My Gaze, No Obstacle Is In The Way. And There Is Nothing There.

But I Shall Give Less Thought To The Future, I Shall Work In The Present. I Feel Such Work Is Within My Power. For I Only Succeed In Small Things, And When I Am Tried By Anxiety, I Am Bound To Say It Is The Small Joys That Release Me.

I Have Just Discovered Something I Have Always Known: We Can No More Escape From One Another Than We Can Escape From God.

Rather Than The Obsession With Impurity, You'd Do Better To Fear The Nostalgia For Purity.