Edward Canade
https://www.goodreads.com/edcanade


“Existence is beyond the power of words
To define:
Terms may be used
But are none of them absolute.
In the beginning of heaven and earth there were no words,
Words came out of the womb of matter;
And whether a man dispassionately
Sees to the core of life
Or passionately
Sees the surface,
The core and the surface
Are essentially the same,
Words making them seem different
Only to express appearance.
If name be needed, wonder names them both:
From wonder into wonder
Existence opens.”
―
To define:
Terms may be used
But are none of them absolute.
In the beginning of heaven and earth there were no words,
Words came out of the womb of matter;
And whether a man dispassionately
Sees to the core of life
Or passionately
Sees the surface,
The core and the surface
Are essentially the same,
Words making them seem different
Only to express appearance.
If name be needed, wonder names them both:
From wonder into wonder
Existence opens.”
―

“Later on, I asked her [her mother], "How does it feel?"
"What?"
"When you can't remember things. Does it frighten you? Do you feel sad?"
"Well, not really. I have this condition, you see. It's called osteo...ost..."
"You mean Alzheimer's?" I said, helping her out.
She looked astonished. "Yes! How on earth did you know that?"
"Just a guess..."
"I can never remember the name," she explained.
"Of course not."
"It affects my memory..."
"...And that's why you can't remember"?"
She frowned and shook her head. "Remember what?"
"There's not a single thing I can do about it," she told me when I reminded her. "If there was something I could do and wasn't doing it, then I could feel sad or depressed. But as it is..." She shrugged.
"So you're okay with it?"
She looked at me, patiently. "I don't have much choice," she explained. "So I may as well be happy.”
― The Face
"What?"
"When you can't remember things. Does it frighten you? Do you feel sad?"
"Well, not really. I have this condition, you see. It's called osteo...ost..."
"You mean Alzheimer's?" I said, helping her out.
She looked astonished. "Yes! How on earth did you know that?"
"Just a guess..."
"I can never remember the name," she explained.
"Of course not."
"It affects my memory..."
"...And that's why you can't remember"?"
She frowned and shook her head. "Remember what?"
"There's not a single thing I can do about it," she told me when I reminded her. "If there was something I could do and wasn't doing it, then I could feel sad or depressed. But as it is..." She shrugged.
"So you're okay with it?"
She looked at me, patiently. "I don't have much choice," she explained. "So I may as well be happy.”
― The Face

“Life's single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay sane.”
― V.
― V.
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