I can’t even write.
I am engulfed by guilt,
I am surrounded by lies.
I am drowning in sorrow,
I am swimming to survive.
I don’t know if I’ll ever run again, 134 more words
The esoteric pupil must try to discover the positive in every phenomenon and in every being. He will then soon notice a hidden beauty underneath the ugly outer appearance, that even behind the exterior of a criminal something good can be found, that even in a mentally disturbed person, in one way or another, the divine soul is hidden. 134 more words
And now, as we go on again into the third life, the outcome of the suffering which came to us (though only of that suffering which came, as it were, out of our own stored-up hatred), the outcome of the pain which was thus spent in our soul is a kind of mental dullness — dullness as compared with quick, open-minded insight into the world. 292 more words
Well, my dear friends, to picture, if I may, in homely and familiar fashion, the possibilities there are in this respect, think of an afternoon-tea, a real, genuine, gossiping party where half-a-dozen (half-a-dozen is quite enough) aunts or uncles — yes, uncles, too — are sitting together expatiating on their fellows. 266 more words
Then, in the next earthly life, out of the hatred is born what comes to us from the outer world as pain, distress, unhappiness caused from outside — in a word, the opposite of joy. 215 more words