The Tragedy Of Modern Man Is Not

Man Is In Fact Nailed Down - Like Christ On The Cross - To A Grid Of Paradoxes. He Balances Between The Torment Of Not Knowing His Mission And The Joy Of Carrying It Out, Between Nothingness And Meaningfulness. And Like Christ, He Is In Fact Victorious By Virtue Of His Defeats.

Those That Say That Individuals Are Not Capable Of Changing Anything Are Only Looking For Excuses.

It's Not Hard To Stand Behind One's Successes. But To Accept Responsibility For One's Failures... That Is Devishly Hard!

We Ask Ourselves All Kinds Of Questions, Such As Why Does A Peacock Have Such Beautiful Feathers, And We May Answer That He Needs The Feathers To Impress A Female Peacock, But Then We Ask Ourselves, And Why Is There A Peacock? And Then We Ask, Why Is There Anything Living? And Then We Ask, Why Is There Anything At All? And If You Tell Some Advocate Of Scientism That The Answer Is A Secret, He Will Go White Hot And Write A Book. But It Is A Secret. And The Experience Of Living With The Secret And Thinking About It Is In Itself A Kind Of Faith.

I Cannot Imagine That I Could Strive For Something If I Did Not Carry Hope In Me.