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Words That Last

While pondering over the 400 year old wisdom of contemporaries Shakespeare and Montaigne this morning, I realized another reason why reading the Bard and the Essayist prove so satisfying—there is comfort in the enduring works of others.

For these days solace resides more in the certainty of the past than in the uncertain prospects of a future.

It is so much easier to forget about today and the harrowing possibilities of the morrow when one immerses one self in the universal truths that have long illuminated and motivated man to love, to hate, to harbor and to steal.

There is little to gain from that which heralds otherwise—of evil forces that die to pilfer our lives too, all in the name of the certain unknown. These mongers of fear jeer at the machinations of the heinous mind, but offer little hope in the wake of the alarm.

And so the resounding solace of words that last.

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