What is the Point?

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Author IsabellaPosted on March 12, 2012 10:16 pmAugust 21, 2014 11:20 amCategories ReflectionsTags depression

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My childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.
James Joyce, Ulysses

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Still CountingApril 21, 2016 12:00 am

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