Sometimes I make the mistake of reading my old posts. They often make me cringe. But today, instead of berating myself, I'm trying to remember their purpose: expression, self-discovery, and understanding. They are my way of practicing being human.
If I knew who or what I were, I would not write; I write out of those moments of anguish which are nameless and I am able to write only where the tradition can offer me a discipline, a means, to explore that anguish.
Gillian Rose in the preface to her book Judaism and Modernity: Philosophical Essays.
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