“Why do we argue? Life's so fragile, a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud, suspended in endless nothing.”

“Why would a man not argue his own shameful culpability, why would he not crave responsibility for disaster, when the alternative was to feel himself to be nothing more than a speck of human dust?”

“To what shall we compare our fragile life?Life is like a speck of dust that alights upon a surface. It remains there, unmoved, until a draft threatens it. When a breeze comes it holds on till the last. Finally, a gust of wind comes and it is blown asunder. That is how fragile life is, like a speck of dust blown to nothingness.”

“Why do we struggle so much? Why do we demand so much of life, when the happiest moments are when nothing is happening at all?”

“ The past is our only real possession in life. It is the one piece of property of which time cannot deprive us; it is our own in a way that nothing else in life is. In a word, we are our past; we do not cling to it, it clings to us. ”

“Cling to the One who clings to nothing;And so clinging, cease to cling.”