Front matter

“All the Sutras are but fingers that point out the shining moon.” “Man, thou livest forever.” Has any one supposed it is lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him, or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it. This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look’d at the crowded heaven. And I said to my spirit: When we become the unfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of everything in them, shall we be filled and satisfied then? And my spirit said: No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond. —Walt Whitman.