The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Often a star was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you out of the distant path, or as you walked under an open window, a violin yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.
This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need of complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.