The only way to love is to give to a kind of lif that brings bliss, melancholy, and a longing for the light at the end of a tunnel. We’re happier set free than we are caged. Figurative, of course, is the enclosure of our feelings and experiences that we become so intimate with....
I can’t help myself. Embracing solitude in anxiety and comfort is greater than remaining habitual. But as humans, we do both. Extract the good from the bad. Accept it. And still remain confined to what feels familiar and ours. I felt this conversation clinging to me when I was reading Sylvia Plath’s The Bell...
The degree to which the phrase — “Incredibly Complicated Machine of Destruction” — taken from the book Eichmann in Jerusalem, written by Hannah Arendt, regards itself as a disorder that has the power to make one blind and indifferent. But the indifference is not as unsettling as the idea of relentless and unquestionable manipulation...