But, With Time, One Has Encountered Many

I Long Ago Abandoned The Notion Of A Life Without Storms, Or A World Without Dry And Killing Seasons. Life Is Too Complicated, Too Constantly Changing, To Be Anything But What It Is. And I Am, By Nature, Too Mercurial To Be Anything But Deeply Wary Of The Grave Unnaturalness Involved In Any Attempt To Exert Too Much Control Over Essentially Uncontrollable Forces. There Will Always Be Propelling, Disturbing Elements, And They Will Be There Until, As Lowell Put It, The Watch Is Taken From The Wrist.

The Assumption That Rigidly Rejecting Words And Phrases That Have Existed For Centuries Will Have Much Impact On Public Attitudes Is Rather Dubious.

Looking At Suicide—the Sheer Numbers, The Pain Leading Up To It, And The Suffering Left Behind—is Harrowing. For Every Moment Of Exuberance In The Science, Or In The Success Of Governments, There Is A Matching And Terrible Reality Of The Deaths Themselves: The Young Deaths, The Violent Deaths, The Unnecessary Deaths

Somehow, Like So Many People Who Get Depressed, We Felt Our Depressions Were More Complicated And Existentially Based Than They Actually Were.

The Complexities Of What We Are Given In Life Are Vast And Beyond Comprehension.