An idea is like a virus. Resilient. Highly contagious. And the smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define... or destroy you.
There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature, that every fibre of the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful impulses.
Men and women at such moments lose the freedom of their will.
They move to their terrible end as automatons move, Choice is taken from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at all, lives but to give rebellion its fascination, and disobedience its charm.
For all sins, as theologians weary not of reminding us, are sins of disobedience.
When that high spirit, that morning-star of evil, fell from heaven, it was as a rebel that he fell.
We had to come from somewhere. The human mind is too primitive to understand that "somewhere."
Consciousness creates reality and you create consciousness.
When mind and heart come together, mind serves consciousness instead of serving itself.
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