Love is not something that is a sort of rare commodity. Everybody has it. Existence is love.
Some of you here feel that you belong to a nice set of people. It may be an ordinary kind of bourgeois coterie of pleasant squares, or it may be a church group of some kind, a club, or a special cult, or just a group of friendly drinkers. But at any rate you feel that, by virtue of membership in this society, you belong to a special in-group of nice, or saved, people. Now, when you consider what nice people talk about when they sit around the dinner table and have an opportunity to nurture their collective ego, you will find that the most fascinating topic of conversation is the nasty people: how awful they are, what dreadful things they do, and what is it all coming to? And this very, very satisfactory condemnatory conversation nurtures your ego. But people who do that don’t seem to realize that they thereby depend on the nasty people in order to know that they’re nice. They are, as a matter of fact, highly indebted to them.
At once you begin to realize how much you depend on an enemy, or an outsider, or a group of damned people as distinct from your own group of saved people. And so you begin to realize that if your collective ego, or your self, depends on your being on the in, but you can only be on the in with relation to something that is out. And since the in and the out are inseparable if there is to be any in or any out, you suddenly discover that “yourself” is bigger than you thought it was. It includes the other and you can’t do without it.