“The world, Govinda, my friend, is not imperfect, not to be seen as on a slow path towards perfection: No, it is perfect in every moment, all transgression already bears grace within itself, all little children already have the aged in themselves, all sucklings death, all the dying eternal life.... For that reason to me it seems what is appears good, death as life, transgression as holiness, cleverness as foolishness; everything must be so, requiring only my acceptance, only my willingness, my loving accord, for it to be good for me, to work for my benefit, never able to harm me.”
Book:Siddhartha
