There, where the resources are few, there man remains with his roots. There, where the year is provided for him, there he remains spared from the excesses of the mind. In the first case he lacks the possibilities. In the latter, the necessity is missing. It is good to settle down in the simple and uniformly calm. Of course, our mind disagrees with this. It fears for its meaning. Life must be complex and full of turmoil and struggle. How else could it work in its entirety? How could it confirm itself as I if there was nothing outside to rub against?
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