I have never been wise. There is always another secret. To feel like a writer of old, so trite, but so compelling still. What is the allure of the written word that so strongly binds us all together? What is the peace brought by a book if not magic, if not gods at work among men?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s