The Mind Has A Complex

I Wish I Could Leave You Certain Of The Images In My Mind, Because They Are So Beautiful That I Hate To Think They Will Be Extinguished When I Am. Well, But Again, This Life Has Its Own Mortal Loveliness. And Memory Is Not Strictly Mortal In Its Nature, Either. It Is A Strange Thing, After All, To Be Able To Return To A Moment, When It Can Hardly Be Said To Have Any Reality At All, Even In Its Passing. A Moment Is Such A Slight Thing. I Mean, That Its Abiding Is A Most Gracious Reprieve.

I Have Always Liked The Phrase "nursing A Grudge " Because Many People Are Tender Of Their Resentments As Of The Thing Nearest Their Hearts.

There Is No Justice In Love, No Proportion In It, And There Need Not Be, Because In Any Specific Instance It Is Only A Glimpse Or Parable Of An Embracing, Incomprehensible Reality. It Makes No Sense At All Because It Is The Eternal Breaking In On The Temporal. So How Could It Subordinate Itself To Cause Or Consequence?

Fact Explains Nothing. On The Contrary, It Is Fact That Requires Explanation.

I Really Can't Claim Ever To Have Had An Exceptionally Close Relationship With A Minister. I'm Always There. I Pay My Pledge. I Listen And Observe With Interest. I'm Very Sympathetic With The Rigor And The Aesthetic Quality Of What They Do. Aside From That, I Don't Have A Kind Of Personal Experience With Any Of Them That I Could Consider Privileged, So To Speak.