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On Words

My lips are pressed together and my tongue is silent. Except for the words flowing through my pen, my voice is unheard. Ears will not hear me, but eyes can listen. They listen to my paper after the ideas have passed. The words are still and will not perish from the page. Only in this way and in God’s memory can a record be kept. Ideas enter and spill through our minds. We speak and are heard. These are all forgotten. When ideas travel through our mind, past our tongue; our hand uses a pen and writes a line. Only fire can then destroy what we have given. Who, then, are we giving to? Do we write to an assumed friend, to ourselves, or God? Is our relationship with the reader defined? Communication is solely for the purpose of relationship. A writer’s purpose is to be read, a speaker to be heard, and a thought to be understood.

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