If Something Is Going To

The Real 19th Century Prophet Was Dostoevsky, Not Karl Marx.

On Certain Mornings, As We Turn A Corner, An Exquisite Dew Falls On Our Heart And Then Vanishes. But The Freshness Lingers, And This, Always, Is What The Heart Needs. The Earth Must Have Risen In Just Such A Light The Morning The World Was Born.

What Is A Firm Hand To Me, Of What Use To Me Is This Astonishing Power If I Cannot Change The Order Of Things, If I Cannot Make The Sun Set In The East, That Suffering Diminish And That Beings No Longer Die?

The Absurd Has Meaning Only In So Far As It Is Not Agreed To.

Nothing In Life Is Worth, Turning Your Back On, If You Love It.