Sunday, September 30, 2007
On The One Hand, It Felt Like A Really Nice Day...
Why are we able, some days, to make and re-make endless resolutions that we have already made endless times before and on those happy days, never lose heart at our own fickle, embarrassing ineptitude? Is it grace or naievete that makes such days pure and happy, regardless of our betrayals and incapacity?
Labels:
futility,
introspection,
precarious,
questions,
Two Sentences A Day
