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	Angel_Bob (profile) wrote, on 4-9-2004 at 6:15pm
Subject: "Life is as beautiful as a wild rose, with plenty of thorns, but still rather enjoyable and indisputably beauteous..."
Once as a child he had sat upon a yellow dune by the sea in the middle of the blue and hot summer day, trying to fill a sieve with sand, because some cruel cousin had said, “Fill this sieve and you'll get a dime!” And the faster he poured, the faster it sifted through with a hot whispering. His hands were tired, the sand was boiling, the sieve was empty. Seated there in the midst of July, without a sound, he felt the tears move down his cheeks. "Then you don't care any more?" "I care so much I'm sick." "I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it'll make sense." "We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing." "Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them, at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us." "That's the good part of dying; when you've got nothing to lose, you run any risk you want." I've started reading Fahrenheit 451. It's the first time I've read it. I like it. I love you all.
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H2OforDuo

04-09-04 8:18pm

Rock on.

I read every single one of those comments on Andy's journal. You are still faithful and true. He's lucky to have a friend like you.

Your journal rocks, and Fahrenheit 451 kicks some ass.

Hope you enjoy it.

Best wishes,
~Caro

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