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Derek Humphry

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Too soon is to waste the good aspects of life, and perhaps unkind to those who love and need you. Too late means you might lose control.
--
"When Is the Time to Die?", p. 101

 
Derek Humphry

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Economic control is not merely control of a sector of human life which can be separated from the rest; it is the control of the means for all our ends. And whoever has sole control of the means must also determine which ends are to be served, which values are to be rated higher and which lower, in short, what men should believe and strive for.

 
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I think a lot of us share a fear that we and people we love will lose control of our own destinies at the end of life.

 
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Love is much like a dam: if you allow a tiny crack to form through which only a trickle of water can pass, that trickle will quickly bring down the whole structure, and soon no one will be able to control the force of the current. For when those walls come down, then love takes over, and it no longer matters what is possible or impossible; it doesn't even matter whether we can keep the loved one at our side. To love is to lose control.

 
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God does not give a spirit of cowardliness but a spirit of power and of love and of self-control, such as is necessary in order to know what is the good, what is truly great and noble, what significance it has for him and in relation to him; in order to love the good with the unselfish love that desires only to be an unworthy servant, which is always love’s delight, and the opposite of it is a violation that pollutes love for him by making it profitable; and in order to maintain constancy, lest everything become unfruitful without the self-control that tempers the effort and the decision of resolution. This acknowledgment, this assent of resolution, is the first dedication. Alas, how rarely a person experiences this in such a way that even merely in the moment of dedication he renounces all dreams and fancies, every mirage that wants to inflate him and cause him to be amazed at himself, and instead receives the power to envision it as it is, the power to embrace it with self-denying love, the power to make the pact of self-control with it! How rarely a person experiences this in such a way that even merely in the hour of dedication he has the power to hold to the good, which seemingly wants to destroy him, the love not to shrink from it, the self-control not to falsify himself.

 
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'By my lights, my son, you are a young man. [...] there should be love in your life. Am I at fault in my thinking?' 'Not at fault, Senior Brother. I loved once, and in truth I could love again. But the pain of loss was too much for me. I would rather live alone than suffer for it.' 'Then you are here to hide, Charreos, and it is not a good reason. The gift of life is too great to waste in such a fashion...'

 
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