There are moments when I look at my past with an equal amount of fondness and pain. I think for most of us youth seemed largely like something that would never run out. Now that I’m older it seems I live to prevent memory and meaning ebbing from me any longer. I can’t stop the first nor even the second from occurring. When we stop doing heroic things, when we stop trying to make a difference in this world our life seems filled with paradoxes. We seem to to only have purpose when we’re moving. What should be our purpose? Lost in mazes sometimes but this is true, that we are born to live and die. If we’re going to succeed at whatever we do we’ve got to learn from the past but there is no asylum back there, our place of respite is ahead. We must look at the town we left from our place on the hill and make our way headwards into the horizon and fearlessly into that town nearby. Travel without hesitation Don’t ever give up.
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