This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. Between the certainty I have of my existence and the content I try to give to that assurance, the gap will never be filled. Forever I shall be a stranger to myself.
To reflect on the essence of the Creator ... is forbidden to the human intellect because of the severance of all relation between the two existences.
If I wrote what I really think, I would be so sad all the time. We create to fill a gap - not just to avoid the idea of dying, it's to fill some particular gap in ourselves.
Why do writers write? Because it isn't there.
I think we have to go through a lot of rituals in order to fill the gap of meaning in our lives.
My dog! the difference between thee and me knows only our Creator.
