Over-soul

Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school of genius; and the uniformity of a work denotes the hand of a single artist. Edward Gibbon

Cristina Peck: Katie could have lived. She’d be alive right now but that bastard left her there. Laying in the street. He left the three of them like animals. He didn’t care. She could be here with me. That son of a bitch is walking the streets, and I can’t even go into their room. [...]

It may, after all, be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights but no durable way of life for those who cannot translate their psychic wounds into significant art or thought. Theodore Roszak, In Search of the Miraculous

There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot. Plato

Within the perfect architecture of thought, logic may often provide the structure — but from emotion come the inspiration. Anaiis Milan, Contemplations on Perception (CY 8012)

The heavens burned, the stars cried out and under the ashes of infinity HOPE, scarred and bleeding, breathed its last. Ulatempa Poetess

If hope is the engine of the soul, then duty is the navigator…and love is the fuel. Unknowm

To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache [...]

I wished to acquire the simplicity, native feelings, and virtues of savage life; to divest myself of the factitious habits, prejudices and imperfections of civilization…and to find, amidst the solitude and grandeur of the western wilds, more correct views of human nature and of the true interests of man. the season of snows was preferred, [...]

Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, an obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board. the hospitality was as cold as the ices. Henry David Thoreau, Walden