I have a friend who speaks of knowledge as an island in a sea of mystery. . . . We dredge up soil from the bed of mystery and build ourselves room to grow. And still the mystery surrounds us. It laps at our shores. It permeates the land. Scratch the surface of knowledge and mystery bubbles up like a spring.
Renouncing self and crying out to evil
To end its wars, I seek a land that lies
All unprotected like a sleeping child;
Nor is my journey reckless and unwise.
Who doubts that love has an effective weapon
May meet with a surprise.