Should I Be What I Think? But

We May Know That The Work We Continue To Put Off Doing Will Be Bad. Worse, However, Is The Work We Never Do. A Work That’s Finished Is At Least Finished. It May Be Poor, But It Exists, Like The Miserable Plant In The Lone Flowerpot Of My Neighbour Who’s Crippled. That Plant Is Her Happiness, And Sometimes It’s Even Mine. What I Write, Bad As It Is, May Provide Some Hurt Or Sad Soul A Few Moments Of Distraction From Something Worse. That’s Enough For Me, Or It Isn’t Enough, But It Serves Some Purpose, And So It Is With All Of Life.

Changing From The Ghosts Of Faith To The Spectres Of Reason Is Just Changing Cells.

To Live Strikes Me As A Metaphysical Mistake Of Matter, A Dereliction Of Inaction.

Blessed Are Those Who Entrust Their Lives To No One.

I Take With Me The Conscience Of Defeat As A Victory Banner.