Behind all art is an element of desire…Love of life, of existence, love of another human being, love of human beings is in some way behind all art – even the most angry, even the darkest, even the most grief-stricken, and even the most embittered art has that element somewhere behind it. Because how could you be so despairing, so embittered, if you had not had something you loved that you lost?
Your friends drag you down, Gordie. Don’t you know that? … Your friends do. They’re like drowning guys that are holding onto your legs. You can’t save them. You can only drown with them.
As Lynn writes: “What angers me is the loss of control. At any moment someone could come to me, be dressed the right way and use the right code, and I no longer have free will. I will do anything that person requests.
I hate them for that. Nothing else is as bad as known that I am always out of control; knowing that I am still a laboratory experiment, a puppet whose strings are hidden from ever but my handlers, and I don’t yet know how to break free.
Like Aristotle, conservatives generally accept the world as it is; they distrust the politics of abstract reason – that is, reason divorced from experience.
You can’t learn anything from losing someone you love. Any lesson you learn from that isn’t a lesson. It’s a compromise with life. A lie you tell yourself.
When you initially forgive, it is like letting go of a hot iron. There is initial pain and the scars will show, but you can start living again.
I can’t take this pain away for her. I can’t make it better. It’s all I want to do – make it better – make her feel better, but I understand grief. It’s a bitch. Grief has to work itself out. It can either consume you or you can move on and at this point it’s consuming her.
We don’t like to think of ourselves as prey-it is a lessening thought-but the truth is that in our arrogance and so-called knowledge we forget that we are not unique. We are part of nature as much as other animals, and some animals-sharks, fever-bearing mosquitoes, wolves and bear, to name but a few-perceive us as a food source, a meat supply, and simply did not get the memo about how humans are superior.
It can be shocking, humbling, painful, very edifying and sometimes downright fatal to run into such an animal.
There was, to my mind, something eerie and ghost-like in the endless procession of faces which flitted across these narrow bars of light,-sad faces and glad, haggard and merry. Like all human kind, they flitted from the gloom into the light, and so back into the gloom once more.
There is no life that does not have the material for despair in it, but some people go too close to the edge and others manage to stay sometimes sad in a safe clearing far from the cliffs. Once you cross over, the rules all change.