somewhere, in some city, town or hamlet, there is a child being born. somewhere pure spirit is inspired into form. and even now the lock takes shape. mighty is the anvil that forges light, sound, discomfort, pain, roughness, dampness, hunger, smells-all impinge on subconscious memory, forging the lock that bars the door to the infinite.
there is something both sad and beautiful about this-sad because it seems sad to see spirit deny itself-beautiful because self determination is beatiful. for this infant, wherever it is being born at this moment, is free, even as each member of the entire human race is born free-free to determine his destiny-free to discover the source of his being and the immensity of his power.
--- opening paragraph to "Three Magic Words" by U.S. Anderson
very interesting book thus far. can't vouch for the whole book but there is definately good stuff within the first part at least.
check it out if you want
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