Some people do not have to search. They find their niche early in life and rest there seemingly contented and resigned. They do not seem to take it seriously. At times I envy them, but usually I do not understand them.

I am one of the searchers; there are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beaches, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty.

We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers and lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our life as our laughter. To share our sadness with ones we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it is to share laughter. We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything it can provide.

Most of all we want to love and be loved, we want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wanderings, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls, that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or to compete for love.

This passage is for wanderers, dreamers and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.