He had very little room. His time too was limited. He hastened incessantly on, as if in despair, towards extremely close objectives. Now, a prisoner, he hurled himself at I know not what narrow confines, and now, hunted, he sought refuge near the centre. Samuel Beckett
Everyone wants you to join their cadre of odd fellows or team building activities. Everything around is constantly changing and wants you to engage in the show.
But passivity, individual shame, vulnerability ,solitary contemplation explore the condition of humanity more than the pride of mankind, belonging, balance of power within the group, the hateful, belligerent, modding, exited functioning that give you comfort.
Come, said my Soul Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas’d smiles I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name, Walt Whitman
“I am so afraid of people’s words.They describe so distinctly everything: And this they call dog and that they call house, here the start and there the end. I worry about their mockery with words, they know everything, what will be, what was; no mountain is still miraculous; and their house and yard lead right up to God. I want to warn and object: Let the things be! I enjoy listening to the sound they are making. But you always touch: and they hush and stand still. That’s how you kill.”
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