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.
Sunday, August 23, 2015
Seduced By Violence
We can be seduced by violence. It promises a resolution it cannot deliver. In the end, war (or other instances of it) provides no resolution. It offers frustration which leads, if permitted to do so, to only new acts of violence pretending to be the answer.
Labels:
frustration,
promises,
violence,
war
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