Each one of us is potentially mind at large. We live together, we act on and react to one another but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. Embraced the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self, transcendence in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies, all these are private and except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pull information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves, from family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes.
Unknown source. Sounds very Humian, will endeavor to find out where I wrote it down from. I have a feeling it was from a poetry shrine in the Algonquin Hotel (Manhattan) dedicated to the poets of the Round Circle circa 1920s. Dorothy Parker I believe her name was. We shall see how my investigating skills go.
