Life

Life is like an island lost in the ocean of solitude, an island where the rocks are our hopes and the trees our dreams, where the flowers are our solitude and the streams our aspirations.
Your Life is an island separate from all the other islands and regions. However many vessels leave your shores for other countries, however many fleets sail to your ports, you will always be a separate island, suffering the pangs of solitude and aspiring to happiness. Other men do not know you at all and they are far from pitying your solitude or understanding you.

My brothers, your life is like an isolated house, far from any human dwelling. A house which no gaze from outside can penetrate.
If it were deprived of light your neighbour’s lamp could not illuminate it. If the house stood in the desert you could not transport it into the garden of other men, ploughed and cultivated by other hands.

My brother, the life of the spirit goes by in solitude, and without this solitude and this isolation you would be in no way what you are, neither would be what I am. Without this isolation and this solitude, I should come to believe on hearing your voice that it is my voice which is speaking, or on seeing your face that it is the reflection of my face in a mirror.

Life without rebellion is like the season without spring. And rebellion without right is like spring in a barren desert. Life, rebellion and right are trinity which can neither be changed nor separated. Life is like the charger of night: the faster it gallops the sooner will come the dawn.