Thursday, October 06, 2005

it seemed to her that all the things did just so much and no more. as, lying awake that night, she reviewed her activities and preoccupations, there appeared nothing that consumed more than a little part of her being, or brought her, by physical excitement or mental concentration, more than forgetfulness. nothing justified her exsistence. the immortal sadness of youth possessed her, and a sorrow of which youth is not always conscious, the lucid knowledge of her unsatisfied desires. there was nothing, she thought, that could be trusted; the dearest delight might betray, the gayest friendship open upon treachery and martyrdom. of her friends, of her young male friends especially, pleasent as they were, there was not one, she thought, who held that friendship important for her sake rather than for his own enjoyment. even that again was but her own selfishness;what right had she to the devotion of any other?and was there any devotion beyond the sudden overwhelming madness of sex? and in that hot airless tunnel of emotion what pleasure was there and what joy? laughter died there, and lucidity, and the clear intelligence she loved, and there was nothing of the peace for which she hungered.
~Charles Williams - Many Dimensions

now remember i don't feel every word of that...the stuff in bold is what i think or feel...but when i read it about a year ago...and still when i read it now, it touches something in me...there is some profound truth in it...especially about what i want...what i hunger for...and the questions asked at the end...i've asked them to myself...even while i know the answer is yes, there is a place to find peace and truth and pure's the defilement of sin...that is what she feels and hates...and feels she cannot escape you see the beautiful sadness in it?i'm sure you've felt it yourself...i hope that someday i could write as moving words as this...


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