QUOTE : I wanted to be something. I have become nothing. I shall try, once again, to love it. This is a form of faith, I suppose. But faith in what? Faith, perhaps, in the unexplainable poetry that runs through all things. It needn’t be there, if all of this is merely a cold race for survival and only to the fit go the spoils. Nothing whatsoever needs to be beautiful. But it is. Why is it? I have been very blind to the sustained plea of beauty and deaf to the cries uttered in all creation, as if the ear and the eye were covered by invisible screens.