There Is Nothing Glamorous Or

At Long Last He Was Unencumbered, Emancipated From The Stifling World Of His Parents And Peers, A World Of Abstraction And Security And Material Excess, A World In Which He Felt Grievously Cut Off From The Raw Throb Of Existence.

Now What Is History? It Is The Centuries Of Systematic Explorations Of The Riddle Of Death, With A View To Overcoming Death. That's Why People Discover Mathematical Infinity And Electromagnetic Waves, That's Why They Write Symphonies.

It Is True That I Miss Intelligent Companionship, But There Are So Few With Whom I Can Share The Things That Mean So Much To Me That I Have Learned To Contain Myself. It Is Enough That I Am Surrounded With Beauty.

I Thought Climbing The Devil's Thumb Would Fix All That Was Wrong With My Life. In The End, Of Course, It Changed Almost Nothing. But I Came To Appreciate That Mountains Make Poor Receptacles For Dreams.

Sometimes My Need To Love Hurts-- Myself, My Family, My Cause. Is There A Cure? Of Course. But I Refuse. Refuse To Stop Loving, To Stop Caring. To Avoid Those Tears, That Pain...to Err On The Side Of Passion Is Human And Right And The Only Way I'll Live.