Secret Passions

I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvelous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one’s life.
-Oscar Wilde
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I went to Chicago yesterday. I like it there. It's not too big, but it's not small. I like that everyone is going somewhere to do something of slight importance. I really like the art museum. It's nice there. I love art. I mean, that's probably pretty obvious if you either: know me, read this, or both. I love everything about art.
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Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.
-Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
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