But whether we live or we die, we will only have one soul to do it with, one precious soul to inhabit for our brief moment on this mortal coil. Why have we chosen to torment this soul, to fill it with anger and hatred, to hold on to the hot coal of self-righteousness with all our might, in the foolish hope that it may someday hurt the person we imagine to be our enemy, while all the while, it’s only hurting us, while all the while it is our own soul—the only soul we have—that is writhing in torment. What have we been thinking of?
