To Live Fully, Outwardly And Inwardly, Not

We Have To Fight Them Daily, Lake Fleas, Those Many Small Worries About The Morrow, For They Sap Our Energies.

I Feel Like A Small Battlefield In Which The Problems, Or Some Of The Problems, Of Our Time Are Being Fought Out. All One Can Hope To Do Is Keep Oneself Humbly Available, To Allow Oneself To Be A Battlefield. After All, The Problems Must Be Accommodated, Have Somewhere To Struggle And Come To Rest And We, Poor Little Humans, Must Put Our Inner Space At Their Service And Not Run Away.

Every Day I Shall Put My Papers In Order And Every Day I Shall Say Farewell. And The Real Farewell, When It Comes, Will Only Be A Small Outward Confirmation Of What Has Been Accomplished Within Me From Day To Day.

After Each Creative Act One Has To Be Sustained By One's Strength Of Character, By A Moral Sense, By I Don't Know What, Lest One Tumble.

That Fear Of Missing Out On Things Makes You Miss Out On Everything.