Thegalleries are full of critics. They play no ball, they fight no fights. Theymake no mistakes because they attempt nothing. Down in the arena are thedoers. They make mistakes because they try many things. The man who makes nomistakes lacks boldness and
Thetorment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause,is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangledmind’ leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
Twoprisoners whose cells adjoin communicate with each other by knocking on thewall. The wall is the thing which separates them but is also their means ofcommunication. It is the same with us and God. Every separation is a link.
