For the raindrop, joy is entering the river-
Unbearable pain becomes its own cure
Charlayne Hunter-Gault on Nelson Mandela, the father: http://nyr.kr/1gb74nu
“He was married first and foremost to the movement—to the liberation of his people from the vicious, stifling bondage of a white minority who saw themselves as superior, who forcibly removed blacks and other people of color to isolated townships that often lacked running water and indoor plumbing, and which the regime could easily encircle in case of trouble.”
Above: Mandela surprises locals on an impromptu walkabout, 1994. Photograph by Ian Berry/Magnum.
All I think about is love and you and the may-have-beens and the alternative futures that are genuine castles in the wind for having nothing to support their foundations except my memories of you.
When will I stop missing you? When will I stop longing for you? Can this day come sooner? Muss es sein? Es muss sein!
After I took the bar exam
What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?
I know that loneliness is another kind of longing, an attachment to the earthly world that is bound to bring pain. I suppose that’s why religion has so much staying power. I want to feel not alone. I want to feel loved and cared for. And it’s not that I’m not, but what is it about the idea not only that there is some omnipotent being that doesn’t give a shit about what you are (so unattractive), but that there is someone here on this planet who is yearning to know you, to understand you, and to marvel over every little piece of you like some a divine gift? What a lofty goal we seek by being fools in love and by believing we can be in love. Lord, what fools these mortals be indeed.