Two Equally Steep And Bold Paths May

How Could I, Who Loved Life So Intensely, Have Let Myself Be Entangled For So Long In That Balderdash Of Books And Paper Blackened With Ink!

Two Equally Steep And Bold Paths May Lead To The Same Peak. To Act As If Death Did Not Exist, Or To Act Thinking Every Minute Of Death, Is Perhaps The Same Thing.

I Should Learn To Run, To Wrestle, To Swim, To Ride Horses, To Row, To Drive A Car, To Fire A Rifle. I Should Fill My Soul With Flesh. I Should Fill My Flesh With Soul. In Fact, I Should Reconcile At Last Within Me The Two Internal Antagonists.

I Heard The Bells From The Future Churches, The Children Playing And Laughing In The Schoolyards [...] And Here Was An Almond Tree In Bloom Before Me: I Must Reach Out And Cut A Flowering Branch. For, By Believing Passionately In Something Which Still Does Not Exist, We Create It. The Nonexistent Is Whatever We Have Not Sufficiently Desired, Whatever We Have Not Irrigated With Our Blood To Such A Degree That It Becomes Strong Enough To Stride Across The Somber Threshold Of Nonexistence.

As You Walk, You Cut Open And Create That River Bed Into Which The Stream Of Your Descendants Shall Enter And Flow.