I Do Have An Impulse

For Our Purposes As Human Beings, The Mind Is The Center Of Everything.

The Old Man Always Said We Should Attend To The Things We Have Some Hope Of Understanding, And Eternity Isn't One Of Them. Well, This World Isn't One Either.

It Saddens Me That Christians Need To Be Reminded That Awe Is Owed Also To Those Who Disagree With Them, Who Believe Otherwise Than They Do.

There Is So Little To Remember Of Anyone - An Anecdote, A Conversation At A Table. But Every Memory Is Turned Over And Over Again, Every Word, However Chance, Written In The Heart In The Hope That Memory Will Fulfill Itself, And Become Flesh, And That The Wanderers Will Find A Way Home, And The Perished, Whose Lack We Always Feel, Will Step Through The Door Finally And Stroke Our Hair With Dreaming Habitual Fondness Not Having Meant To Keep Us Waiting Long.

The Locus Of The Human Mystery Is Perception Of This World. From It Proceeds Every Thought, Every Art.