Life Is Like Boxing In

Yet I Will Make You All Love Me And I Will Punish Myself To Spite Your Love.

It Is Only Through Disruptions And Confusion That We Grow, Jarred Out Of Ourselves By The Collision Of Someone Else's Private World With Our Own.

Of Course, Both [oscar] Wilde & [vladimir] Nabokov Believe In Many Things, And These Things Emerge In Their Writing Clearly - For Wilde, The Folly Of Humankind And The (romantic) Grandeur Of The Heroic, Lone Individual (not Unlike Wilde Himself); For Nabokov, The Possibility Of A Kind Of Transcendence Through A Great, Prevailing, Superior Sort Of Love (especially In Ada, The Most Self-congratulatory Of Novels.)

And So You Must Grant To God What Is God And Not Try To Think Of What You Have Lost, For That Way Is Madness.

The Mere Passage Of Time Makes Us All Exiles.