The mere presence of a single flower—in my case, immediately, a single iris in a squat, narrow-necked vase—changes an entire room. How does one flower do this? By not doing anything.
Stop. Divest. Subtract. Eliminate. Renounce. Relinquish. Disentangle.
The human condition: wanting, fearing. These mesmerisms are the foci of the false.
No one knows misery better than the man who is searching for happiness.
We don’t need more art, music or books. We don’t need moon shots, self-driving cars or a plurality of Democrats. We don’t even need a cure for cancer. We need a quiet mind.