There Was A Rock In Front Of

There Are Some People Who Cannot Help Giving. Why? Because They Experience A Real Psychological Pleasure In Doing So. They Don't Do It With An Eye To Their Own Advantage, They Do It On The Quiet; They Detest Doing It Openly Because That Would Take Away Some Of The Satisfaction. They Do It In Secret, With Quick Trembling Hands, Their Breasts Rocked By A Spiritual Well Being Which They Do Not Themselves Understand.

Do Not Forget, Some Give Little, And It Is Much For Them, Others Give All, And It Costs Them No Effort; Who Then Has Given Most?

And Love Became The World's Origin And The World's Ruler, Yet Littered Its Path Is With Flowers And Blood, Flowers And Blood.

The Intelligent Poor Individual Was A Much Finer Observer Than The Intelligent Rich One. The Poor Individual Looks Around Him At Every Step, Listens Suspiciously To Every Word He Hears From The People He Meets; Thus, Every Step He Takes Presents A Problem, A Task, For His Thoughts And Feelings. He Is Alert And Sensitive, He Is Experienced, His Soul Has Been Burned.

Truth Is Neither Ojectivity Nor The Balanced View; Truth Is A Selfless Subjectivity.