My Feelings Can Perhaps Be Imagined, But

My Feelings Can Perhaps Be Imagined, But They Can Hardly Be Described.

Just Do It. Get It Down On The Page. Work Hard. And Then Let Go. Ask Yourself Why You Want To Write. You Have To Be Clear About That.

Work, Work, Work, But What Mark Do We Leave, What Point Do We Make? People Who Are Too Beholden To Work Become Like Erasers: As Things Move Forward, They Leave In Their Wake No Trace Of Themselves.

The Individual Soul Touches Upon The World Soul Like A Well Reaches For The Water Table. That Which Sustains The Universe Beyond Thought And Language, And That Which Is At The Core Of Us And Struggles For Expression, Is The Same Thing. The Finite Within The Infinite, The Infinite Within The Finite.

My Suffering Left Me Sad And Gloomy.