And everything together, all the voices,
all the destinations, all the wishes,
all the pains, all the joy, all the good and evil,
all that together made up your world.
All that was the river of what was to come,
it was life's music.
Goodness and reason are not in nature, but exist in us, in us human beings with whom the fate has fun; but we can be stronger and the nature of fate, even if only for a few moments. We can also be close to each other, when we need it, and we look into the eyes with comprehension; we can love each other and live comparing each other.
Love doesn't want to have, wants to only love.
All the books of the world don't give you happiness, but in secret they refer to you.
There is everything you needin there, sun stars moon.
Because the light that you looked for lives in your chest.
The wisdom that you have looked for a long time in a library sines in every sheet, because now it's yours.
Each of us must find on its behalf what is legal and what is forbidden: forbidden for him. You can not make never nothing forbidden and however be a great scoundrel. And vice versa. To be absolutely rigorous, it's comfortable. Whoever is too much comfortable to think for himself and to be judge of himself settles down to the prohibition. Easy for him. Others instead feel some Commandments inside themself and consider forbidden things that any gentleman does every day, while they feel legit other things that usually are prohibited. Everyone must be guarantor of itself.
With some disciples, the master went down from the mount on which he had peregrinated towards the level ground, and he came near to the wall of a great city, to whose doors a great crowd had been assembled. Approaching himself to it, the master and his disciples noticed that a scaffold was erected and that the executioners were at work, intented to tear from the barrow a man weakened from the jail and the tortures, in order to drag him to the fetters. The crowd gruoped in order to assist to the show, throwing lassoes to the condemned and covering him with spits, and anticipating the decapitation with noisy and joyful greed. "Who is him?" asked each other the disciples "and what has he done to make the crowd desire with so much passion his death? Here we don't see nobody that shows to have mercy or that pours out a tear".
"I believe" the master sadly said "that he is a heretic". And they came a little closer, and when they were in contact with the crowd, the disciples asked informations with interest among people about the name and the crimes committed from the one that in that moment they saw forced to kneel down in front of the fetter. "He is a heretic" they shouted while interrogated. "Here, here, look how he fold the head, the damned! To death! As a matter of fact that mangy dog expected to teach us that the paradise city has only two doors, while we know very well that they are twelve."
The astonished disciples addressed to the master, and they asked him: "How did you understand it, master?" But he just smiled and to continue his road. "It has not been difficult" said finally in a whisper.
"Indeed, if he would be a thief or a murderer or a criminal of any kind, we would have noticed compassion and participation in people. Many would have cried, some would have sworne on his innocence. But if one has his own faith, people will attend without feeling pity for his martyrdom, and his body will be thrown the dogs".
Every human being is something personal and unique; the need to substitute the place of personal conscience with a collective one is already a violence, and the first step towards any form of totalitarianism.
Being able to fall asleep when one is tired and being able to let off a weight that has been lugged for a long time, is a delight, a marvellous fact. Since we dug our grave I have been more delighted and satisfied than how I had ever been in years.
When something has been begun, the best comes for itself.
He who has courage and character is always very disquieting for those who stand next to him.