Like other high subjects, the Law gives no ground to common sense.
The modernist writers found despair inspirational.
Great talkers do not stop for breath, and never look at the clock.
I regret. I apologize. I blame myself. I continue as before.
Ideas about life organize perception; names of emotions organize sensations; rules of syntax organize thought. But pain comes on its own.
My mind is led astray by every faint rustle.