He meditated, and began a new paragraph. I must provide for my safety. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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