i want to ask the happiest person in the world whether it was worth it, all the sacrifices he made in order to become so happy. … faq.
island where all becomes clear.
solid ground beneath your feet.
the only roads are those that offer access.
bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.
the tree of valid supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immemorial.
the tree of understanding, dazzlingly straight and simple,
sprouts by the spring called now i get it.
the thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the valley of obviously.
if any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.
echoes stir unsummoned
and eagerly explain all the secrets of the worlds. … utopia
there are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.
like, telling someone you love them.
or giving your money away, all of it.
your heart is beating isn’t it?
you’re not in chains, are you?
there is nothing more pathetic than caution
when headlong might save a life
even, possibly, your own.
from: ernest hemingway
to: charles scribner
charlie, there is
no future in anything. i hope you agree. that is why i like it at a war. every day and every night there is a strong possibility that you will get killed and not have to write. i have to write to be happy whether i get paid for it or not. but it is a hell of a disease to be born with. i like to do it. which is even worse. that makes it from a disease into a vice. then i want to do it better than anybody has ever done it which makes it into an obsession. an obsession is terrible. hope you haven’t gotten any. that’s the only one i’ve got left.