Paths travel back and forth, roads find themselves betwixt woods that have been long-traveled. If one wanders by the well-trod trail that bears no marks of permanence, or if one prefers the old king's road, tended and mapped, one ends up the same place. When words' purpose is forfeited by the desire of their author to make them beautiful what is ( Read more... )

Are you surprised to find that your life has already started, that some percentage of your existence is up, and you must answer to yourself for that? Is this what you dreamt of when you were a child, is this the world that was promised to you in your youth? Is it everything that you've wanted, have you made your way to the end of the path, or at ( Read more... )

So long as people exist in this world there will be value. That which is highly valued, that which is not much valued, that which is sought after, that which is avoided and so on. The purpose of value is to establish individually what does or does not appeal to individuals, that they may therefore through their work and actions attain more of ( Read more... )

Life is short, they say. It seems monumentally long sometimes I must disagree, but perhaps today was long and yesterday and all of last week but two years ago wasn't long, the first 17 years of life seemed to pass in a blur, but at the time there were minutes and seconds that passed by interminably, slowly bleeding the clock dry. Is it ever to ( Read more... )

There was magic again in the day of the long night and the rising run. There was brightness and dreams and hopes beyond the cares of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow. There were long dreams of skies and suns and moons, of peace and plenty, of apple pies and cute guys to take the world away. And my day and my life and my world was as simple ( Read more... )

When the modes that are my modes, and the things that are my things have gone beyond the pall of possibility, a voice rises up against the gloom and promises better things. How is it that I find myself here again and again, different than the person that I ever was. Each day, each way, different and irreplaceable, but they say that all roads lead ( Read more... )

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

-Stephen Crane

It sure is nice, I think to myself, to operate under the guise of logic. To pretend to myself and the world that my actions are the sole function of rational calculation, how tricky though, how deceptive, for this is not the truth. The truth is complicated. There is a certain logic at work, but here the word refers not to the generally accepted ( Read more... )

Do you remember that person you used to be ( Read more... )

I saw them there, quiet and wondering, peering anxiously at the corpse spread out beneath the automobile, as though two great titans had battled to the death, and the victor, so exhausted by the battle, had fallen dead upon the loser. Their eyes seemed peaked with curiosity as they anticipated similar fates for themselves, and the eyes that would ( Read more... )