Seriously, The World Is Changing So Quickly

Use Well Thy Freedom.

Then She Waited, With Parted Lips And A Saucy Challenge In Her Eyes, To See How Her Presence -- The Drama Of Being Her -- Was Registering. In The Way Of Such Chicks, She Seemed Convinced Of The Originality Of Her Provocation.

This Evening I Begin A Notebook. If Anyone Reads This, I Trust They Will Forgive My Overuse Of "i". I Can't Stop It. I'm Writing This.

Love Is About Bottomless Empathy, Born Out Of The Heart’s Revelation That Another Person Is Every Bit As Real As You Are. And This Is Why Love, As I Understand It, Is Always Specific. Trying To Love All Of Humanity May Be A Worthy Endeavor, But, In A Funny Way, It Keeps The Focus On The Self, On The Self’s Own Moral Or Spiritual Well-being. Whereas, To Love A Specific Person, And To Identify With His Or Her Struggles And Joys As If They Were Your Own, You Have To Surrender Some Of Your Self.

[t]hat I Could Find Company And Consolation And Hope In An Object Pulled Almost At Random From A Bookshelf--felt Akin To An Instance Of Religious Grace.