Individual (n.) is a part God has lost himself in, says the Hindu myth — the way an actor absorbed in Hamlet forgets that offstage he is Mr. Smith.
Individual (n.) and the world are the abstract limits of a concrete reality between them, as a coin lies between its two abstract surfaces.
Individual (n.) taken as an isolated atom is merely an intellectual dodge: cut any portion out of the universe's network and it frays at every edge.
Individual (n.) can be banished only by showing a plus of existence: if he falls, it is because real human life proves too rich for him, not too poor.
Individual (n.) is what the universe does the way the ocean waves: each person a unique action of the whole of nature.
Individual (n.) feels like a brief light flashing once in the aeons — a drop that gleams for a moment and vanishes — yet the self lives in the whole surge, not the drop.
Individual (n.) is the Latin form of the Greek atom, the uncuttable — and you can kill a person as surely by cutting him from his environment as by removing his heart.
Individual (n.) is not assembled like a car, a head screwed onto a neck; heart, lungs and brain are separate names, not separate events.
Individual (n.) is neither an isolated person nor an expendable working-machine, but a focal point where the whole universe expresses itself.
The Individual (n.) who feels cut off from nature and tries to figure it all out comes to fear and resent everything outside his own will.