Am I a feather on a brook, or refuse in a tsunami flood?

Am I a rescued infant, or a worn-out rescuer?

Am I more aligned with my own problems, or with the world's Solution?

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Do I care about my loved ones, or just that I am a caring soul?

Do I see the glass as half-empty, or the toilet overflowing?

Do I want what is best, or do I only see as best that which I want?

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Who is the greater enemy, others or myself?

Who are those who love me most, those who know me best and do not pray for me, or those who don't know me at all and pray for me every day?

Who pays attention because they care, and who cares because they pay attention?

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Love is the simplest thing in the world, and complicated things kill it.

Peace is easier than war, but so often we feel like wastefully doing it the hard way.

Joy lives in infants who are loved, and in the elderly who have loved.

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Many questions, few answers.

Many trials, few acquittals.

Many miracles, few who believe.

Many poor, and besieged, and few to help.

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