"...love is necessarily of something other than ourselves: love of self is love of something that is not really our self.” In other words, love must be directed outwards, towards something in the outside world, something that is not the person who is doing the loving." ~ James FaulconerI finished reading Stardust earlier today. every day I open these pages of other worlds and fly through them on the back of so many empty, meaningless hours. and then I put them down, stare blinkingly at the clock, and wonder what else there is.
the hero of this story goes about his adventures without knowing who he really is or where he really came from. that doesn't stop him.
so I suppose no self-delusions, those I was born with or those I adopt as a matter of course, will stop me. all I seem to find are broken mirrors and dead-end inspirations. but there's got to be a way to make something out of those, right?
I wish I had my little brother around to read all these adventures aloud to.
2 comments:
you could call him up and read to him over the phone :)
hmm... I wonder how that would go...
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