The Voice Of The Sea Speaks To

She Was Moved By A Kind Of Commiseration... A Pity For That Colorless Existence Which Never Uplifted Its Possessor Beyond The Region Of Blind Contentment, In Which No Moment Of Anguish Ever Visited Her Soul, In Which She Would Never Have The Taste Of Life's Delirium.

She Had All Her Life Long Been Accustomed To Harbor Thoughts And Emotions Which Never Voiced Themselves… They Belonged To Her Her And Were Her Own, And She Entertained The Conviction That She Had A Right To Them And They They Concerned No One But Herself.

Who Can Tell What Metals The Gods Use In Forging The Subtle Bond Which We Call Sympathy, Which We Might As Well Call Love.

No, I Only Think You Cruel, As I Said The Other Day. Maybe Not Intentionally Cruel; But You Seem To Be Forcing Me Into Disclosures Which Can Result In Nothing; As If You Would Have Me Bare A Wound For The Pleasure Of Looking At It, Without The Intention Or Power Of Healing It.

The Voice Of The Sea Is Seductive, Never Ceasing, Whispering, Clamoring, Murmuring, Inviting The Soul To Wander In Abysses Of Solitude.