The Beginning (n.) is not that with which one begins but that to which one comes, and one comes to it backward.
A Beginning (n.) must be in season and in proportion to what follows — not an introduction that recapitulates the whole book, nor a speech from the throne that takes the words out of parliament's mouth.
A Beginning (n.) is easy for the reflective man: he can begin anywhere; the one thing he cannot do is stop.
A Beginning (n.) must be concrete: whoever thinks the trick is to begin like Robinson Crusoe remains a fanciful adventurer all his days; unless you begin concretely you never begin, and unless you begin you will not end.
The Beginning (n.) is, in a godly sense, not where one begins but where one arrives, and one arrives at it backwards.