I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can.
The heart lies to itself because it must.
We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world.
We must unlearn the constellations to see the stars.
Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods. Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt. But there’s music in us. Hope is pushed down but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure, but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world. To make injustice the only measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
Why do so manysettle for so little? I don’t understand why they’re not greedy for what’s inside them.