The Wish To Pray Is

Only The Present Counts.

But I Shall Give Less Thought To The Future, I Shall Work In The Present. I Feel Such Work Is Within My Power. For I Only Succeed In Small Things, And When I Am Tried By Anxiety, I Am Bound To Say It Is The Small Joys That Release Me.

Have You Never Been Moved By Poor Men's Fidelity, The Image Of You They Form In Their Simple Minds? Why Should You Always Talk Of Their Envy, Without Understanding That What They Ask Of You Is Not So Much Your Worldly Goods, As Something Very Hard To Define, Which They Themselves Can Put No Name To; Yet At Times It Consoles Their Loneliness; A Dream Of Splendor, Of Magnificence, A Tawdry Dream, A Poor Man's Dream -and Yet God Blesses It!

More Often Than Not, Nothingness Is Reluctantly And Despairingly Taken To Be The Only Hypothesis Possible When All The Others Have Failed, Since By Definition It Cannot Be Disproven And Is Beyond The Scope Of Reason.

When Writing Of Oneself One Should Show No Mercy. Yet Why At The First Attempt To Discover One's Own Truth Does All Inner Strength Seem To Melt Away In Floods Of Self-pity And Tenderness And Rising Tears?