My Hole Is Warm And

So Why Do I Write, Torturing Myself To Put It Down? Because In Spite Of Myself I've Learned Some Things. Without The Possibility Of Action, All Knowledge Comes To One Labeled "file And Forget," And I Can Neither File Nor Forget. Nor Will Certain Ideas Forget Me; They Keep Filing Away At My Lethargy, My Complacency. Why Should I Be The One To Dream This Nightmare?

Meaning Grows In The Mind, But The Shape And Form Of The Act Remains.

And My Problem Was That I Always Tried To Go In Everyone's Way But My Own.

If The Word Has The Potency To Revive And Make Us Free, It Has Also The Power To Bind, Imprison And Destroy.

If You Can Show Me How I Can Cling To That Which Is Real To Me, While Teaching Me A Way Into The Larger Society, Then And Only Then Will I Drop My Defenses And Hostility, And I Will Sing Your Praises And Help You To Make The Desert Bear Fruit.