Terror, boxes, the ontologists

This bath of nostalgia provides me with unconquerable strength. The past is too much to bear-so it is that a man cannot be a scholar of his own past. He must ride. I cannot consider these 'lost moments' or any 'lost greatness.' Rather, I must ride into the mountains once again and through new land. There is a terror and a joy in something new. Becoming something new, I don't know. What is in the boxes, what I could put in boxes in the future. It is there as it happens-what is left over, let this be the matter of the ontologists.