diary / by Edward Mullany

For there is a sort of endlessness to that of which humans are capable. Not in the sense that each of us does not have specific and real limitations, for certainly we do, as our influence has bounds, and our spheres of activity have been scripted, so to speak, by what we’ve inherited through our bodies, and by the variety of our talents; but in the sense that we have been endowed with a spirit that can move us by inspiration, and a will that has been designed for the sort of endurance that is evinced by those personalities we describe as determined, persistent, or stubborn.