When there is only God, there is not even what is not He. If I reach to touch that Ocean it will be a hand of watery form: that Ocean caressing its own waves. Of what use is all this striving, this development, if my longing is already satisfied? It seems there is a beauty to growing, and this is why we grow: that growth befits His Name "The Fashioner". Then, even my movement, my stillness, is a thing of service to Him. As for me, myself, alone -- this not-me -- there is neither need, nor place, nor movement: only He.