In spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement. — Aldous Huxley
Medusa didn’t ask for the snakes in her hair.
She gazed hoping to see love never stone.
Poor Medusa wasn’t born a monster.
Until Poseidon in his rage condemned her to be.
Can’t you see?
What was once pure beauty became poison.
And, her kindness a lost myth.
Alas, the story of many women is also this. — Hannah Sofia Ghani, Poor Medusa
We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories. — Jonathan Gottschall, The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human