something

Anyway, can I pretend I have much choice? I look at myself and see chest, thighs, feet -a head. This strange organization, I know it will die. And inside -something, something, happiness..."Thou moves me" That  leaves no choice. Something produces intensity, a holy feeling, as oranges produce orange, as grass green, as birds heat. Some hearts put out more love and some less of it, presumably. Does it signify anything? There are those who say this product of hearts is knowledge. "Je sens mon coeur et je connais les hommes"


Herzog - Saul Bellow