So The Storm Passed And Every One

No, I Only Think You Cruel, As I Said The Other Day. Maybe Not Intentionally Cruel; But You Seem To Be Forcing Me Into Disclosures Which Can Result In Nothing; As If You Would Have Me Bare A Wound For The Pleasure Of Looking At It, Without The Intention Or Power Of Healing It.

But The Beginning Of Things, Of A World Especially, Is Necessarily Vague, Chaotic, And Exceedingly Disturbing. How Few Of Us Ever Emerge From Such Beginning! How Many Souls Perish In Its Tumult! The Voice Of The Sea Is Seductive; Never Ceasing, Whispering, Clamoring, Murmuring, Inviting The Soul To Wander For A Spell In Abysses Of Solitude; To Lose Itself In Mazes Of Inward Contemplation. The Voice Of The Sea Speaks To The Soul. The Touch Of The Sea Is Sensuous, Enfolding The Body In Its Soft, Close Embrace.

Do You Suppose A Woman Knows Why She Loves? Does She Select? Does She Say To Herself, 'go To! Here Is A Distinguished Statesman With Presidential Possibilities; I Shall Proceed To Fall In Love With Him.' Or, 'i Shall Set My Heart Upon This Musician, Whose Fame Is On Every Tongue?' Or 'this Financier, Who Controls The World's Money Markets?'

There Was No Despondency When She Fell Asleep That Night; Nor Was There Hope When She Awoke In The Morning.

Perhaps It Is Better To Wake Up After All, Even To Suffer, Rather Than To Remain A Dupe To Illusions All One's Life.