More movement, and the sense of bodies being shackled in alongside of me.
Over the years your bodies become walking autobiographies, telling friends and strangers alike of the minor and major stresses of your lives.
Good habits, which bring our lower passions and appetites under automatic control, leave our natures free to explore the larger experiences of life.
Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it.
The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.
Cheerfulness, it would appear, is a matter which depends fully as much on the state of things within, as on the state of things without and around us.
In America, through pressure of conformity, there is freedom of choice, but nothing to choose from.