Darkness is the absence of light.
Absences do not exist.
Sin does not exist
-Rajneesh-
(Love's Light is the only read more

Darkness is the absence of light.
Absences do not exist.
Sin does not exist
-Rajneesh-
(Love's Light is the only reality..
says the unified field theory of physics..
God is the only Doer).

I admire people who are suited to the contemplative life. They can sit inside themselves like honey in a jar read more

I admire people who are suited to the contemplative life. They can sit inside themselves like honey in a jar and just be. It's wonderful to have someone like that around, you always feel you can count on them. You can go away and come back, you can change your mind and your hairdo and your politics, and when you get through doing all these upsetting things, you look around and there they are, just the way they were, just being.

Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve

Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve

Given that external reality is a fiction, the writer's role is almost superfluous. He does not need to invent the read more

Given that external reality is a fiction, the writer's role is almost superfluous. He does not need to invent the fiction because it is already there.

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am read more

Time is the substance from which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.

We realize our dilemma goes deeper than shortage of time; it is basically a problem of priorities. We confess, "We read more

We realize our dilemma goes deeper than shortage of time; it is basically a problem of priorities. We confess, "We have left undone those things that ought to have done; and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.".

Reality is nothing but a collective hunch.

Reality is nothing but a collective hunch.

Death is the tyrant of the imagination.

Death is the tyrant of the imagination.

What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures read more

What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.