I realized that I had granted my illness lordship over me. In viewing my depression as a despot subjecting me to its savage fancies, I was able to escape responsibility, to indulge fully my selfish desire to let my ego flourish unfettered, not obliged to anyone. But this wasn't freedom. It was a prison-a cell separating me from those who cared for me and for whom I might have cared.

Eric G. Wilson

Categorized in : Depression Responsibility Selfish

Creating doesn't make us unhappy, unhappiness makes us creative. To create is to live, and in living, we want only to creat more, to set our foundations depper and reach higher toward the sky. If sadness is what makes us creative, then sadness is nothing else but life.

creating sadness sky

But the morbidity of sorrow-not cultivated sorrow, but that which comes inevitably-is often a productive sluggishness, a time when the soul slows down, too weary to go on, and takes stock of where it's been and where it's going. During these gloomy pauses, we often discover parts of ourselves we never knew we possessed, talents that, properly activated, enrich our lives.

grief soul suffering

Our past is a novel that we are constantly revising. by Eric G. Wilson

Our past is a novel that we are constantly revising.

our-past novel past

The porcelain rose is not as pretty as the one that decays. by Eric G. Wilson

The porcelain rose is not as pretty as the one that decays.

porcelain decay rose

American seekers of happiness are in danger of deluding themselves into believing that only one part of the world exists, the part that gladdens their egos.

ego believe world