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“For we are like olives: only when we are crushed do we yield what is best in us.”
it’s my only defense against a beautiful misery.
No, the heavens are not humane, nor is any man with a head on his shoulders.
and, oddly enough, playing with his baby seems to renew his strength, though not so much the strength in his arms as the strength in his soul.
I, unhappily happy with my unwitting education, ruminate on progressas ad futurum meeting regressus ad originem for relaxation, the way some people read the Prague Evening News.
“Two things fill my mind with ever new and increasing wonder—the starry firmament above me and the moral law within me,”
as if climbing down a ladder
a horror more intense than pain, and visited it upon them in the moment of truth.
“The highest law is love, the love that is compassion,”
The heavens are not humane, but I’d forgotten compassion and love.
