Their malefic predilection for detail! this is what constitutes the level of writing of my contemporaries. There are few who will openly know the theory of lofty contemplation!
Nothing further to say - except I have walked thru this day, and found the events so "hostile" that I think I could speak no "vituperation" more than barbed than - To-day nothing was of interest! -
Say than that we've been cheated and that the foolish the lost lie disturbed within the putrescent mouth of New York's depravity-
No - it has been suggested by others - will the "triumphant" over fault and despair succeed in turning aside "depravity's glance to a state of innocuousness - also that place is a make-shift and that the mouth of "depravity" is omnipresent as well as omophagic, or better to be more all-inclusive, omnivorous.
Maybe I should put a stop to this - there aren't enough graces - so many ways of saying the same thing - an approach toward "fell" despair - and yet (I'm saying this all wrong) this writing is done in order (disorder?) to show "me" to myself that is all my "reactions and for certain neither a "given and/or random" time.
More of the same: a young couple walking out under trees behind a house down past rocks go toward a hill overlooking a path to a shore; their thoughts are of sinuous among rushes preening in morning light and roses hanging on a garden gate.- No way to break away from the recurring images all year (I mean in the dead of winter) I am sense-ful of the odor of lilacs - I name no "view" (I am wall-eyed) yet song's a solace: a musician eats aconite leans on a gate - a beacon in the eye; it's past time. This is a diffident relation of what is only at bottom a person as satyr.
How does anyone get to "Eckhart's core" of things? If there's nothing to substantiate than there 's little to up-hold: therefore, no reason to peal away to get at the "core". Each accident is a mask. God, I am weary of the depths and heights!
One thing is sure, I must watch out for the un-radiant ones. there unkind speech, obviously an outcome from the seething lakes of their malevolent hearts is nothing of a rebuke; but one must never become one of their order, altho there is, at first, always a desire to say: and you sit crowned, bearing your scepter atop the dung hill. - I shall go more quickly toward light when space and time are rendered? Is this a test?
Courtesy, The Fales Library, Special Collections, New York University.