When I Am Not Desperate, I Am

They Looked At The Paper And Saw Nothing In Those Curving Lines, But They Knew And Understood Everything, For Their Geography Was In Their Blood And They Felt Biologically Their Picture Of The World.

They Entered There Into The Unconscious Philosophy Of The Town; That Life Was An Incomprehensible Marvel, Since It Was Incessantly Wasted And Spent, Yet None The Less It Lasted And Endured 'like The Bridge On The Drina'.

There Comes A Time When A Man Finds Himself In Front Of A Dark Uncrossable Abyss, Which He Himself Has Spent Years Digging. He Cannot Go Forward, And Has No Way Back. Words Have Failed, Tears Won't Help, And Who Would He Call Out To? He Can't Even Remember His Own Name. Then The Man Sees That On This God's Green Earth There Is But One True Suffering: The Torment Of Guilty Conscience.

Forgetfulness Heals Everything And Song Is The Most Beautiful Manner Of Forgetting, For In Song Man Feels Only What He Loves.

Sadness Is Also A Kind Of Defence.