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.
Saturday, May 3, 2014
What They Choose Not To See
They have their secret sins and private weaknesses, as do we all; but they have chosen not to see that they are not just what is sad or weak and so no matter how capable they are in the company of others they find their heart most at home in the dark. They have not understood who others know they are.
Labels:
choices,
limitations,
understanding
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