Habit ~ by William James We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, never to be undone. Every smallest stroke of virtue or vise leaves its ever- so- little scar The drunken Rip Van Winkle, in Jeffersons play, excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by saying, I wont count this time! Well, he may not count it, and a kind heaven may not count it; but it is being counted none the less. Down among his nerve cells and fibers the molecules are counting it, registering and storing it up to be used against him when the next temptation comes. Nothing we ever do is, in strict scientific literalness, wiped out. ~ William James
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 05:35:49 +0000
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