My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Small Circle
We have control only over the small circle in which we stand. This is so even if we wish, or act as though, we had control over others or were influenced by them so that choices we made could not be our own. We decide about us. It is a power we cannot cede, a right we cannot take even when it is offered.
Labels:
control,
life's rules
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