Do you ever think? The voice, God forbid. - Samuel Beckett

"But I did not yet know, at that time, how tender the earth can be for those who have only her and how many graves in her giving, for the living."

First Love

The search for myself is ended. I am buried in the world, I knew I would find my place there one day, the old world cloisters me, victorious. I am happy, I knew I would be happy one day. But I am not wise. For the wise thing now would be to let go, at this instant of happiness. And what do I do? I go back again to the light, to the fields I so longed to love, to the sky all astir with little white clouds as white and light as snowflakes, to the life I could never manage, through my own fault perhaps, through pride, or pettiness, but I don't think so.

Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit.