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� Exotic blossom, I whispered again in your ear What is your language dear you smiled and shook your head and the leaves murmurred instead � R Tagore


Indeed, I am almost terrified for now, contrary to my life in the past, l have but to desire a thing and my wishes are gratiďŹ ed. I am in the delicate position of one who has to be careful not to I wish for something he really does not desire. The effect, I must say, has been to make me desire less and less. The one desire which grows more and more is to give. The very real sense of power and wealth which this entails is also somewhat frightening —because the logic of it seems too utterly simple. It is not until I look about me and realize that the vast majority of my fellow men are desperately trying to hold on to what they possess or to increase their possessions that I begin to understand that the wisdom of giving is not so simple as it seems. Giving and receiving are at bottom one thing, dependent upon whether one lives open or closed. Living openly one becomes a medium, a transmitter; living thus, as a river, one experiences life to the full, flows along with the current of life, and dies in order to live again as an ocean. H Miller


Having fun with waves is a story of its own. On some days the weather and surf conditions just seem to strike in a certain way that creates a feeling that nothing really matters, except being outside and playing around. The surf may be medium sized with zip and pop. Short little sections that close out in hollow bowls, or long lines that roll and roll with seeming persistence for no reason. Sunshine flooding the day with glittering twinkling warmth. Loud friendly talk, shouts of delight, exaggerated movements of pure perfection to be washed away by little white bubbles. Annonymous


You see, one of my goals in design weather for a house or a pair of shoes, is to involve the machine less and the persons own capabilities more and more. That doesn’t mean throwing out all machines or spending two weeks making a needle… such an approach can get ridiculous. But it does mean that whenever I can find a reasonably simple way to eliminate special materials or tools in making a yurt, ill do it… not in order to produce a quick result- like a molded plastic house-but in order to let the builder use his own personal skills. I think that our society went through a long period of putting things down, saying that one should rise above the material level… and of course, its possible to want objects in a miserly way, to need a collection of them as proof of one’s worth. But there’s another sense in which things are important because we respect and understand them… because we’ve come into an intimate relationship with them. W Copperthwaite


I was sitting on the seashore, half listening to a friend arguing violently about something which merely bored me. Unconsciously to myself, I looked at a film of sand I had picked up on my hand, when I suddenly saw the exquisite beauty of every little grain of it; instead of being dull, I saw that each particle was made up on a perfect geometrical pattern, with sharp angles, from each of which a brilliant shaft of light was reflected, while each tiny crystal shone like a rainbow‌the rays crossed and recrossed, making exquisite patterns of such beauty that they left me breathless‌Then, suddenly, my consciousness was lighted up from within and I saw in a vivid way how the whole universe was made up of particles of material which, no matter how dull and lifeless they might seem, were nevertheless filled with this intense and vital beauty. For a second or two the whole world appeared as a blaze of glory. When it died down, it left me with something I have never forgotten and which constantly reminds me of the beauty locked up in every minute speck of material around us. A Huxley


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