Death Does Not Frighten Me, But Dying

While To Live In The Past And Think Of What Was Good And Beautiful About It Amounts To A Sort Of Seasoning Of The Present, The Perennial Wait For Tomorrow Is Bound To Result In Chronic Discontent That Poisons One's Entire Outlook.

The Cowardly Belief That A Person Must Stay In One Place Is Too Reminiscent Of The Unquestioning Resignation Of Animals, Beasts Of Burden Stupefied By Servitude And Yet Always Willing To Accept The Slipping On Of The Harness. There Are Limits To Every Domain, And Laws To Govern Every Organized Power. But The Vagrant Owns The Whole Vast Earth That Ends Only At The Non-existent Horizon, And Her Empire Is An Intangible One, For Her Domination And Enjoyment Of It Are Things Of The Spirit.

A Subject To Which Few Intellectuals Ever Give A Thought Is The Right To Be A Vagrant, The Freedom To Wander. Yet Vagrancy Is A Deliverance, And Life On The Open Road Is The Essence Of Freedom. To Have The Courage To Smash The Chains With Which Modern Life Has Weighted Us (under The Pretext That It Was Offering Us More Liberty), Then To Take Up The Symbolic Stick And Bundle And Get Out.

Oh If At Every Moment Of Our Lives We Could Know The Consequences Of Some Of The Utterings, Thoughts And Deeds That Seem So Trivial And Unimportant At The Time! And Should We Not Conclude From Such Examples That There Is No Such Thing In Life As Unimportant Moments Devoid Of Meaning For The Future?

The Way I See It, There Is No Greater Spiritual Beauty Than Fanaticism, Of A Sort So Sincere It Can Only End In Martyrdom.