"Never measure the height of a mountain, until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was," Dag Hammarskjold, 1925-1930. "Markings" is a book that once was on every person's shelf. I would venture to say that it still is. The sad part is that most people have not even looked at it. After you open it you immediately are swept into the thoughts of someone who died many years ago. This man lived in another generation, in different times, but his thoughts on life

"The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that I exist," Dag Hammarskjold, Markings, 1955. "Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave

Dag Hammarskjold, Markings 1950 The longest journey is the journey inwards; Of him who has chosen his destiny, Who has started upon his quest For the source of his being (Is there a source?). He is still with you, But without relation, Isolated in your feeling Like one condemned to death Or one whom imminent farewell Prematurely dedicates To the loneliness which is the final lot of all. Between you and him is distance, Uncertainly--- Care. He will see you withdrawing, Further

When I was in graduate school I discovered the beloved Swedish statesmen and poet extraordinaire Dag Hammarskjold and his famous Markings. This amazing book is a collection of entries into Hammarskjold's journals. It was first published in 1964, about four years after he died. He left it to a friend of his and said that he could do whatever he wanted with them. The following is from the letter that was found with the material: "Dear Leif: Perhaps you may remember I once told