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Poetry is the highest form of written expression. Like an artist who is able to capture the essence of creation with a paintbrush or pencil, poets bring about the epiphanies in verse that the masses can relate.
Random Thoughts of restless mind is all about thoughts and emotions, worries and expectations that make our mind restless. It constantly returns to think about times past and upcoming future and then mind creates horrifying illusions Restless mind forms the rust on our skills, it makes us so used to the stillness, that walking towards the future becomes a difficult job Humans are bound to feel anxious Perhaps this is a way to express our fear about whether it is okay for us to have a better life. If we try to hold on so many things both real and imaginary our soul gets trapped inside of us locked in a hell that has no key, we begin to weigh our hearts down and make our minds restless.
Volume 1 Autobiography of a Restless Mind is a fascinating, exceptionally diverse collection of observations and reflections written over the past twenty-five years by one of the most innovative thinkers, writers, and leaders of the past half century. Witty and wise, playful and profound, prophetic and immensely quotable, it is a companion no thinking, caring person should be without. Written in an unforgettable style reminiscent of Aurelius, Montaigne, Lao-Tse, and Bacon, it is a classic that will be read with pleasure and profit for generations to come.
This book offers the most comprehensive account yet published of Alexis de Tocqueville's extraordinary thought and life. Peter Augustine Lawler makes clear the understanding of the human condition that is at the foundation of Tocqueville's mixed and elusive view of human liberty.
This is a collection of poetry that began at a very young age. I wondered through life with many undiagnosed conditions and was deeply in the closet about who I was. Unable to properly navigate these feelings, thoughts, and emotions was a nightmare. These writings are what I have managed to put into words from before, during, and even after some of my greatest struggles. I made it through and so can you.
Paul Eppinger was a gifted and sensitive young man who ended his life by suicide at the age of 29. Restless Mind, Quiet Thoughts is the account of his journey toward that final decision. Through brutally honest journal writings and correspondence with his father, the reader enters Paul's world of anguish and beauty as he struggles with issues of identity, purpose, relationships, family, and career. The book lovingly portrays a unique father and son relationship between Paul and Charles.
Since the publication of my initial Ramblings in 2009, this supposedly restless mind did not suddenly acquire Zen-tranquility. It continued to be what it has been for long and here is another installment of occasional thoughts, versified. I use versified not in the strictly traditional sense because it gets a bit too restrictive for the license some of us think we have or claim to have. These ramblings are mostly in a territory that is consciously kept apart from the areas of my professional interest. This territory involves governments, politics, nature, things and people -- people of faith, deep, shallow, desert-dry or fertile with pseudo-versions of Zen and Sufism. In this territory, the things that happen are often seen and considered in a somewhat different way, and the reactions felt and expressed, not always with due respect and reverence. There is no conscious attempt to organize or sequester these thoughts into groups or categories, but if one finds any trend in this tumbling out of thoughts, it may perhaps be largely attributed to some kind of chronological, evolutionary randomness. And if in these wanderings, some hills and valleys begin to look familiar to those who may know, they could well be but, I hope, seen from a different angle, tangential to a path rather less-familiar, and offering a somewhat different view. No two sunsets over a familiar hill are ever the same to an eye or a heart that is never tired of sunsets; every wave leaves behind its own set of previously unseen gifts each time it sweeps over and recedes from a well-trodden beach. Some of these ramblings have been offered before, quite extemporaneously, to informal gatherings but if anyone detects any tell-tale signs here, it would be either incidental or that my editorial revisions have not been as thorough as I had originally intended. T. Beeth November, 2013