|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull... |
| Uncategorized |
|
| We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are. |
| Uncategorized |
|
|
|
| We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls. |
| Uncategorized |
|
| We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection |
| Uncategorized |
|
|
|
|
|
| When we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. We cease to grow. |
| Religion |
|
| When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others. |
| Uncategorized |
|
| You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book(Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip, or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom(when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this(or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death." |
| Uncategorized |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
