This Midwestern Sky Is The Nakedest Loneliest

Whenever I Feel Bad, I Go To The Library And Read Controversial Periodicals. Though I Do Not Know Whether I Am A Liberal Or A Conservative, I Am Nevertheless Enlivened By The Hatred Which One Bears The Other. In Fact, This Hatred Strikes Me As One Of The Few Signs Of Life Remaining In The World.

One Of The Peculiar Ironies Of Being A Human Self In The Cosmos: A Stranger Approaching You In The Street Will In A Second's Glance See You Whole, Size You Up, Place You In A Way In Which You Cannot And Never Will, Even Though You Have Spent A Lifetime With Yourself, Live In The Century Of The Self, And Therefore Ought To Know Yourself Best Of All.

The Difference Between A Non-suicide And An Ex-suicide Leaving The House For Work, At Eight O'clock On An Ordinary Morning: The Non-suicide Is A Little Traveling Suck Of Care, Sucking Care With Him From The Past And Being Sucked Toward Care In The Future. His Breath Is High In His Chest. The Ex-suicide Opens His Front Door, Sits Down On The Steps, And Laughs. Since He Has The Option Of Being Dead, He Has Nothing To Lose By Being Alive. It Is Good To Be Alive. He Goes To Work Because He Doesn't Have To.

But What Physician Has Not Had Patients Who Don't Make Any Sense At All? To Tell The Truth, They're Our Stock-in-trade. We Talk And Write About The Ones We Can Make Sense Of.

The Enduring Is Something Which Must Be Accounted For. One Cannot Simply Shrug It Off.