So you’re on your knees? Good. Now die to yourself. To your idea of yourself. Everything you think you are, you’re not. What’s left? Find out. Stop. Stop thinking. You people all want to help someone. Help yourself first, like the airplane. Put on your own mask first. All you hear are your own crazy thoughts like a river of shit running on and on. See your thoughts for what they are. Stop your helping. Stop your planning. Give up! There’s no way out! Not for others, not for you. We are living out here at the end of the road, the end of the Earth in a place called “Paradise”. How’s it going? Perfect? No! You are madder than ever. You are tired? So lie down right here. Be like a cat. Heal yourself. There is no match for the tremendous intelligence of the body. Rest.
“I think that the romantic impulse is in all of us and that sometimes we live it for a short time, but it’s not part of a sensible way of living. It’s a heroic path and it generally ends dangerously. I treasure it in the sense that I believe it’s a path of great courage. It can also be the path of the foolhardy and the compulsive.”