Loneliness Becomes An Acid That Eats Away

It Occurred To Me What A Simple Thing Reality Is, How Easy It Is To Make It Work. It's Just Reality. Just Housework. Just A Home. Like Running A Simple Machine. Once You Learn To Run It, It's Just A Matter Of Repetition. You Push This Button And Pull That Lever. You Adjust A Gauge, Put On The Lid, Set The Timer. The Same Thing, Over And Over.

What A Terrible Thing It Is To Wound Someone You Really Care For And To Do It So Unconsciously.

This Place Is Too Calm, Too Natural--too Complete. I Don't Deserve It. At Least Not Yet.

Ever Since That Happened To Me, I Haven't Been Able To Give Myself To Anyone In This World.

I'm Not Sure If I Could Tell The Difference—between Just Staring Into Space And Thinking. We're Usually Thinking All The Time, Aren't We? Not That We Live In Order To Think, But The Opposite Isn't True Either—that We Think In Order To Live. I Believe, Contrary To Descartes, That We Sometimes Think In Order Not To Be. Staring Into Space Might Unintentionally Have The Opposite Effect.