Dude! I forgot how much I missed your blog from back in the day until now. I certainly don't write (hand write) enough... if at all. I type a lot. But there is definitely something special about putting pen to paper. It's slow... in a good way... it allows for deeper contemplation as I craft each letter. It's also an art. I often notice how I do spend a little extra brain space observing each letter stroke and how I could possibly make the next letter even more interesting to compliment the letters on either side.
Dude! I forgot how much I missed your blog from back in the day until now. I certainly don't write (hand write) enough... if at all. I type a lot. But there is definitely something special about putting pen to paper. It's slow... in a good way... it allows for deeper contemplation as I craft each letter. It's also an art. I often notice how I do spend a little extra brain space observing each letter stroke and how I could possibly make the next letter even more interesting to compliment the letters on either side.
...but then I forget what I was writing.
Invictus
BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.