At the heart of any terror is the fear of losing what we find meaningful.
Knowledge is hot water on wool. It shrinks time and space.
Very soon he will vanish completely in the wings of his own wordless stanza. [ ] but his stanza is not completely empty [ * ]
The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours.
I must read. I must read. I must read.
Come morning I found the day as I have found every other day--without relief or explanation.