If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound and sear, that wring groans and tears and curses, know that they come from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words and his words are always stronger than the lying, crushing weight of the world, stronger than all the racks and wheels which the cowardly invent to crush out the miracle of personality.
If any man ever dared to translate all that is in his heart, to put down what is really his experience, what is truly his truth, I think then the world would go to smash, that it would be blown to smithereens and no god, no accident, no will could ever again assemble the pieces, the atoms, the indestructible elements that have gone to make up the world.
… no picture, this is just perfect….
Uptown was a bleak district with no identity, where a heart never does anything so violent or final as break:
merely gets increased tensile, compressive, shear loads piled on it bit by bit every day till eventually these and its own shudderings fatigue it.
The human brain has happily split things apart, but things have split the human heart too.
How can you have a day without a night
You’re the book that I have opened
And now I’ve got to know much more
Like a soul without a mind
In a body without a heart
I’m missing every part