Monday, February 22, 2021

I was prideful in youth. Yet now in autumn, do I not seek laurel leaves for piety?

I gnash my teeth at restriction. Do I not now, like water, overflow and seep into cracks?

So far, Lord, have I come. So far, Lord, have I yet to go.

Let, therefore, this day be one of sunshine.

(Letter #2,235)