Saturday, December 29, 2012 @7:12 PM
If, every day, you were to see that which no one else could, the spirit of a thing eternal and perfect, whose voice is relentlessly at your ear alone, whose bosom comes close then dissipates like a wafting scent caught by a single familiar, and which then fills one with sorrow, and emptiness, and grieving for that which none else grieves for: wouldst thou not fill with anguish, and anger, and hatred that would like ants consume your heart, your mind, your soul?
So I see a perfect world of Peace, and Knowledge, and Love;
So will I go mad for it.