The lightnings trembled And in thy Silence was his Sentence, And in his Soul a vain repentance, And evil dread so ill dissembled, That in his hand the lightnings trembled. Lord Byron, Prometheus idefiancesilence
The complexity and the gray One thing I assume of age is weariness. Damned if I don’t get more tired every day. Tired of what I do, following arcs like lobbed rocks — the inevitability of truth. But the complexity and the gray lie not in the truth, but in what you do with the truth once you have it. truthlifeagedecisions