Be that as it may, it’s all I have to work with. Clutching these faded, fading, imperfect memories to my breast, I go on writing this book with all the desperate intensity of a starving man sucking on bones.
There is no fire like lust, no sickness like hatred, no sorrow like separateness, no joy like peace.No disease is worse than greed, no suffering worse than selfish passion. Know this, and seek nirvana as the highest joy.
While contemplating the objects of the senses, a person develops attachment for them, and from such attachment lust develops, and from lust anger arises.
