In the 18th Century William Blake saw the world in a grain of sand. Most people nowadays can't even see the writing on the wall.

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!

Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.

It is as though we are understanding now what (William) Blake intuited, the senses were, in Eden, spread over the whole being. It might seem, then, that our bodies still live in Eden, but our minds refuse to know it.

Always give without remembering and always receive without forgetting.

Royal blood isn't blue, it is a jaundiced shade of red and riddled with broken chromosomes

We have an infinite capacity for self interest, yet the infinite has absolutely no interest in us