As I've Gotten Older, I Find I Am Able To Be Nourished More By Sorrow And To Distinguish It From Depression.
We Read Not Only Because We Cannot Know Enough People, But Because Friendship Is So Vulnerable, So Likely To Diminish Or Disappear, Overcome By Space, Time, Imperfect Sympathies, And All The Sorrows Of Familial And Passional Life.
You Must Reach Inside Yourselves Where I Live Like A Story, Not Old, Not Young Laughing At My Own Sorrow, Weeping Pearls At Weddings, Wielding A Torch To Melt Sand Into Something Clear And Bright.
Stories Are Like Genies...they Can Carry Us Into And Though Our Sorrows. Sometimes They Burn, Sometimes They Dance, Sometimes They Weep, Sometimes They Sing. Like Genies, Everyone Has One. Like Genies, Sometimes We Forget That We Do. Our Stories Can Set Us Free...when We Set Them Free.
If You, Who Are Organised By Divine Providence For Spiritual Communion, Refuse, And Bury Your Talent In The Earth, Even Though You Should Want Natural Bread, Sorrow And Desperation Pursue You Through Life, And After Death Shame And Confusion Of Face To Eternity.
Some Say That Happiness Is Not Good For Mortals, & They Ought To Be Answered That Sorrow Is Not Fit For Immortals & Is Utterly Useless To Any One; A Blight Never Does Good To A Tree, & If A Blight Kill Not A Tree But It Still Bear Fruit, Let None Say That The Fruit Was In Consequence Of The Blight.
I Believe The Bicentenary Offers Us A Chance Not Just To Say How Profoundly Shameful The Slave Trade Was - How We Condemn Its Existence Utterly And Praise Those Who Fought For Its Abolition - But Also To Express Our Deep Sorrow That It Could Ever Have Happened And Rejoice At The Better Times We Live In Today.
