landscape-of-mind

Where do you get your ideas?' people are always asking authors they admire, which I__e always thought was another way of asking, 'How did you get my ideas, which I didn__ know I had until you put words to them?' We are known, appreciated, even cherished by our favorite writers; every word of our favorite books seems to have been written for us. Within their sentences and paragraphs, those writers are forever available, forever patient, including us in their compassionate recognition of the impossible, exhausting complexity of being human (those __any thousand_ selves), never ignoring us or abandoning us or finding us dull. It__ you, they whisper, as we turn their pages, you are the one I__e been waiting to tell everything to.

The landscape of the mind, against which our thoughts and expectations move, when the wind of the imagination is active, changes as quickly as the clouds; and indeed it consists often of several landscapes, semi-transparent and showing through one another.

Life is not always perfect. Like a road, it has many bends, ups and down, but that__ its beauty.