Hope rises from dark despair, the jagged edge of acrimony hurriedly honed in fear— a pause to lay swords down, for the blood to crust and contemplate alternatives. Are we conscripted warriors for opposing forces, or free to reclaim our sanity, to nurture and heal with the real work the sun awaits? Well, while I’m, here I’ll do the work— And what’s the work? To ease the pain of living. Everything else, drunken dumbshow. - Allen Ginsberg (“Memory Gardens”)
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