The Human Heart Is My

What Does All This Mean Finally, I Kept Asking Like A College Kid. Why Does It Make Me Want To Cry? Maybe It’s That We Are All Outsiders, We Are All Making Our Own Unusual Way Through A Wilderness Of Normality That Is Just A Myth.

There Is One Purpose To Life And One Only: To Bear Witness To And Understand As Much As Possible Of The Complexity Of The World -- Its Beauty, Its Mysteries, Its Riddles. The More You Understand, The More You Look, The Greater Is Your Enjoyment Of Life And Your Sense Of Peace. That's All There Is To It. Everything Else Is Fun And Games. If An Activity Is Not Grounded In "to Love" Or "to Learn" It Does Not Have Value.

When I'm Writing, The Darkness Is Always There. I Go Where The Pain Is.

All The Stories I Have Told You Are Finally As Useless As All Ancient Knowledge Is To Man And To Us. Its Images And Its Poetry Can Be Beautiful; It Can Make Us Shiver With The Recognition Of Things We Have Always Suspected Or Felt. It Can Draw Us Back To Times When The Earth Was New To Man, And Wondrous. But Always We Come Back To The Way The Earth Is Now.

It Was Over Now, And The Meaningless World Was Tolerable And Need Not Be Explained. And Never Would It Be, And How Foolish I Had Ever Been To Think So.