And There Was Light (Lusseyran)

Now and then the flood of fractured happenstance curves a little aside, and there floating on its crest is a thing so beautiful that there is very little to say. You can describe it perhaps, you can summarize, but all your accounting cannot stretch around the object you describe. Nothing you can say will explain why it is lovely. And so, to keep it whole, it is best to say nothing. Only show where it is and then let it describe itself.

Read the book, if you have any curiosity. I will not introduce it because it is too far above me to be sketched with my words. But let me say this: the book gave me a thirst for fire and a yearning for the bright darkness described by its blind author. It painted the strength of kindness and the wisdom of faith. I felt lighter and more full because I read it. If I could find a stronger recommendation I would give it also.

A sample:

"And now, in conclusion, why has this Frenchman from France written this book in the United States to present to his American friends today? Because today he is America's guest. Loving the country and wanting to show his gratitude, he could find no better way of expressing it than in these two truths, intimately known to him and reaching beyond all boundaries.

The first of these is that joy does not come from outside, for whatever happens to us it is within. The second truth is that light does not come to us from without. Light is in us, even if we have no eyes."