He imagined that a life full of such spitefulness could only lead to heartache and turmoil and moments of emotion existing as mere schadenfreude, the pleasure increasing at the misfortunes brought on by spite and hatred.
He could see that his place in the here and now was nothing more than a spot on the continuum, each day rolling into the next like a snowball rolling down a steep incline, picking up speed and snow as it turns ever faster, the valley calling loudly.
He realized the river was never the same moment to moment and day to day, and he realized crisis gave birth to opportunity; these thoughts gave him unquenching hope for the future, a hope he dreamed would be fulfilled in some way yet unkown.
Somewhat self-imposed, the hiatus away from the Internet has reminded him that the world was not just bits and bytes with light and dark on the screen; he wanted to swing a hammer and not be tied to a keyboard.
"There are books in which the footnotes or comments scrawled by some reader's hand in the margin are more interesting than the text. The world is one of these books."
~George Santayana, philosopher (1863-1952)