On April 10, 1912, W. T. Stead boarded the S.S. Titanic bound from Southampton to New York, to take part in a peace congress at Carnegie Hall. On the morning of April 15 the ship struck an iceberg and Stead, along with hundreds of others, drowned. Ten years later, Stead’s daughter Estelle published this book which purported to be a communication with Stead via a medium, Pardoe Woodman. In the book, Stead described his death at sea and discussed the nature of the afterlife. The manuscript was produced using automatic writing.
The Arrival
MANY years ago I was attracted by an article on the subject of spirit communication, and, after reading it carefully several times, I was forced to admit its soundness. I was struck by the plain and practical ideas of the writer. This was the first cause of my becoming actively interested in this big and amazing work. From that time onward I did all in my power to prove and then forward the movement. Many people know this; and those who do not, can become acquainted with the details if they wish. Therefore I am going to pass at once from my first earth interest in the occult to my first interest in the earth.
Just as I was overcome with astonishment and satisfaction on first reaching conviction on earth, so I was astonished almost equally on my coming to this land and finding that my knowledge of this subject gained on earth was strikingly correct in nearly all the chief points. There was a great satisfaction in proving this. I was at once amazed and delighted to find so much truth in all I had learned; for although I had believed implicitly, I was not entirely without grave misgivings upon many minor details. Hence my general satisfaction when I recognized things and features which, though I had accepted whilst on earth, I had scarcely anticipated would be as I now found them. This must sound somewhat contradictory, but I want you to understand that my earthly misgivings were based on fear that perhaps the spirit world had a formula of its own which was quite different from our earthly mentality, and that, therefore, the many points were transmitted to us in such a form and in such expression as we on earth would be able to grasp and appreciate, and were not in themselves the precise descriptions, owing to the limitations of earth word-expression.
Of my actual passing from earth to spirit life, I do not wish to write more than a few lines. I have already spoken of it several times and in several places. The first part of it was naturally an extremely discordant one, but from the time my physical life was ended there was no longer that sense of struggling with overwhelming odds; but I do not wish to speak of that.
My first surprise came when—I now understand that to your way of thinking I was dead—I found I was in a position to help people. From being in dire straights myself, to being able to lend a hand to others, was such a sudden transition that I was frankly and blankly surprised. I was so taken aback that I did not consider the why and the wherefore at all. I was suddenly able to help. I knew not how or why and did not attempt to inquire. There was no analysis then; that came a little later. I was also surprised to find a number of friends with me, people I knew had passed over years before. That was the first cause of my realizing the change had taken place. I knew it suddenly and was a trifle alarmed. Practically instantaneously I found myself looking for myself. Just a moment of agitation, momentary only, and then the full and glorious realization that all I had learned was true. Oh, how badly I needed a telephone at that moment I felt I could give the papers some headlines for the evening. That was my first realization; then came a helplessness—a reaction—a thought of all my own at home—they didn’t know yet. What would they think of me? Here was I, with my telephone out of working order for the present. I was still so near to the earth that I could see everything going on there. Where I was I could see the wrecked ship, the people, the whole scene; and that seemed to pull me into action—I could help.. ..And so in a few seconds—though I am now taking a long time to tell you, it was only a few seconds really—I found myself changed from the helpless state to one of action; helpful not helpless—was helpful, too, I think.
I pass a little now. The end came and it was all finished with. It was like waiting for a liner to sail; we waited until all were aboard. I mean we waited until the disaster was complete. The saved—saved; the dead—alive. Then in one whole we moved our scene. It was a strange method of traveling for us all, and we were a strange crew, bound for we knew not where. The whole scene was indescribably pathetic. Many, knowing what had occurred, were in agony of doubt as to their people left behind and as to their own future state. What would it hold for them? Would they be taken to see Him? What would their sentence be? Others were almost mental wrecks. They knew nothing, they seemed to be uninterested in everything, their minds were paralyzed. A strange crew indeed, of human souls waiting their ratings in the new land.
A matter of a few minutes in time only, and here were hundreds of bodies floating in the water—dead—hundreds of souls carried through the air, alive; very much alive, some were. Many, realizing their death had come, were enraged at their own powerlessness to save their valuables. They fought to save what they had on earth prized so much.
The scene on the boat at the time of the striking was not so pleasant, but it was as nothing to the scene among the poor souls newly thrust out of their bodies, all unwillingly. It was both heartbreaking and repellent. And thus we waited—waited until all were collected, until all were ready, and then we moved our scene to a different land.
It was a curious journey that. Far more strange than anything I had anticipated. We seemed to rise vertically into the air at terrific speed. As a whole we moved, as if we were on a very large platform, and this was hurled into the air with gigantic strength and speed, yet there was no feeling of insecurity…. We were quite steady. I cannot tell how long our journey lasted, nor how far from the earth we were when we arrived, but it was a gloriously beautiful arrival. It was like walking from your own Indian Sky. There, all was brightness and beauty. We saw this land far off when we were approaching, and those of us who could understand realized that we were being taken to the place destined for all those people who pass over suddenly—on account of its general appeal. It helps the nerve-racked newcomer to fall into line and regain mental balance very quickly. We arrived feeling, in a sense, proud of ourselves. It was all lightness, brightness. Everything as physical and quite as material in every way as the world we had just finished with.
Our arrival was greeted with welcomes from many old friends and relations who had been dear to each one of us in our earth life. And having arrived, we people who had come over from that ill-fated ship parted company. We were free agents again, though each one of us was in the company of some personal friends who had been over here a long while.
The Blue Island
I HAVE told you a little about the journey and arrival, and I want now to tell you my first impression and a few experiences. I must begin by saying I do not know how long after the collision these experiences took place. It seemed to be a continuation without any break, but I cannot be certain that this was so.
I found myself in company with two old friends, one of them my father. He came to be with me, to help and generally show me round. It was like nothing else so much as merely arriving in a foreign country and having a chum to go around with. That was the principal sensation. The scene from which we had so lately come was already well relegated to the past. Having accepted the change of death, all the horror of our late experience had gone. It might have been fifty years ago instead of, perhaps, only last night. Consequently our pleasure in the new land was not marred by grief at being parted from earth friends. I will not say that none were unhappy, many were; but that was because they did not understand the nearness of the two worlds; they did not know what was possible, but to those who understood the possibilities, it was in a sense the feeling, “Let us enjoy a little of this new land before mailing our news home” therefore there was little grief in our arrival.
In writing my first experiences I am going to give a certain amount of detail. My old sense of humor is still with me, I am glad to say, and I know that what I have to say now will cause a certain amount of amusement to those who treat this subject lightly, but that I do not mind. I am glad they will find something to smile at—it will make an impression on them that way, and then when their own time comes for the change they will recognize themselves amongst the conditions of which I am going to write. Therefore to that kind of skeptic I just say, “It’s all right, friend,” and, “You give no offense.”
My father and I, with my friend also, set out immediately. A curious thing struck me. I was clothed exactly as I had been, and it seemed a little strange to me to think I had brought my clothing with me! There’s number one, Mr. Skeptic!
My father was also dressed as I had always known him. Everything and everybody appeared to be quite normal—quite as on earth. We went out together and had refreshment at once, and naturally, that was followed by much discussion about our mutual friends on both sides. I was able to give them news and they gave me information about our friends and also about the conditions ruling in this new country.
Another thing which struck me was the general coloring of the place; of England it would be difficult to say what the impression of coloring is, but I suppose it would be considered grey-green. Here there was no uncertainty about the impression; it is undoubtedly a blue which predominated. A light shade of blue. I do not mean the people, trees, houses, etc., were all BLUE; but the general impression was that of a blue land.
I commented upon this to my father—who, by the way, was considerably more active and younger than he was at time of death; we looked more like brothers. I spoke of this impression of blue, and he explained that it was so in a sense. There was a great predominance of blue rays in the light, and that was why it was so wonderful a place for mental recovery. Now some say, “How completely foolish!” Well, have you not on earth certain places considered especially good for this or that ailment?. . .Then bring common sense to bear, and realize that the next step after death is only a very little one. You do not go from indifferent manhood to perfect godliness! It is not like that; it is all progress and evolution, and as with people, so with lands. The next world is only a complement of your present one.
We were a quaint population in that country. There were People of all conditions, of all colors, all races and all sizes: all went about freely together, but there was a great sense of caring only for oneself—self absorption. A bad thing on earth, but a necessary thing here, both for the general and individual good. There would be no progress or recovery in this land without it. As a result of this absorption there was a general peace amongst these many people, and this peace would not have been attained without this self centeredness. No one took notice of any other. Each stood for himself, and was almost unaware of all the others.
There were not many people whom I knew.
Most of those who came to meet me had disappeared again, and I saw scarcely any I knew, except my two companions. I was not sorry for this. It gave me more chance of appreciating all this new scene before me. There was the sea where we were, and I and my companions went for a long walk together along the shore. It was not like one of your seaside resorts, with promenade and band; it was a peaceful and lovely spot. There were some very big buildings on our right, and on our left was the sea. All was light and bright, and again this blue atmosphere was very marked. I do not know how far we went, but we talked incessantly of our new conditions and of my own folk at home and of the possibility of letting them know how it fared with me, and I think we must have gone a long way. If you can imagine what your world would look like if it were compressed into a place, say, the size of England—with some of all people, all climates, all scenery, all buildings, all animals—then you can, perhaps, form an idea of this place I was in. It must all sound very unreal and dreamlike, but, believe me, it was only like being in a foreign country and nothing else, except that it was absorbingly interesting.
I want to give you a picture of this new land without going too deeply into the minute details. We arrived at length at a huge building, circular and with a great dome. Its general appearance was of a dome only—on legs—I mean a great dome supported on vast columns, circular and very big. This again, in the interior, was an amazingly lovely blue. It was not a fantastic structure in any way. It was just a beautiful building, as you have on earth—do not imagine anything fairy-like; it was not. This blue was again very predominant, and it gave me a feeling of energy. I wanted immediately to write. I would like to have been a poet at that moment, but as it was I just wanted to express myself with pen and ink.
We stayed there some time and had refreshment very similar, it seemed to me, to what I had always known, only there was no fresh food. Everything appeared quite normal there, too, and the absence of some things which would on earth have been present was not noticed. The curious thing was that the meal did not seem at all a necessity—it was there, and we all partook of it lightly, but it was more from habit than need—I seemed to draw much more strength and energy out of the atmosphere itself. This I attributed to the color and air.
It was while we were in this place that my father explained the reason and work of the different buildings I had noted on our walk together.
Interesting Buildings
LOOKED upon as a meal—a lunch out—it was the longest one I have ever known and without question the most interesting. I learnt a great deal in those first few hours with my father. It was all conversational, but it was of great use to me and of vast interest. He explained to me that the place we were then in was a temporary rest-house, one of many, but the one most used by newly-arrived spirit people. It was nearest to earth conditions and was used because it resembled an earth place in appearance. There were other buildings used for the same purpose as well as for other purposes; by that I mean there is more than one of each.
These houses were not all alike, they varied considerably in outward appearance, but there is no need to describe each. To call it a big building is sufficient, and by that you must understand a place like your museum or your portrait gallery, or your large hotels. anything you like, and it is near enough. But it was not fantastic in any way and had no peculiarities, therefore by “building” I mean a building only.
There were a great number of these places in different parts—not grouped together, but variously placed about this land.
It seems that all the senses are provided for here. The chief work on this island is to get rid of unhappiness at parting from earth ties, and therefore, for the time being, the individual is allowed to indulge in most of earth’s pleasures. There are attractions of all kinds to stimulate and generally to tone up strength. Whatever the person’s particular interest on earth has been, he can follow it up and indulge in it here also for the present. All mental interests and almost all physical interests can be continued here, for that one reason of coaxing the newcomer to a level mental outlook.
There are houses given over to book study, music, to athleticism of all kinds. Every kind of physical game be practiced—you can ride on horseback, you can swim in the sea. You can have all and any kind of sport which does not involve the taking of life. In a minor degree that can be had too, but not in reality; that is only make-believe.
From this you will understand that particular buildings are given over to their own kind of work. The man who has spent his life in games, heart and soul, would be disconsolate without them here…he can have them and enjoy them to the full; but he will find that after a time the desire is not so keen and he will turn to other interests automatically, though gradually, and it may be that he will never entirely abandon his games, but the desire will be less absorbing. On the other hand, the man who used his life for, say, music, for instance, will find his desire, his interest, and his ability increasing by leaps and bounds—because music belongs to this land. He will find that by spending much time in one of the music houses, as he will if his life is music, his knowledge and ability are amazingly increased. Then there is the bookworm. He, too, finds intense satisfaction in his new-found facilities. Knowledge is unlimited—works of priceless value, lost upon earth, are in existence here. He is provided for.
The keen business man on earth whose only interest is in making his business successful will also find scope for ability. He will come in contact with the house of organization, and he will find himself linked up with work transcending in interest anything that he could have imagined for himself whilst upon earth.
Now all this is done for a reason. Everyone is provided for. On arriving here there is often much grief; grief that is sometimes incapacitating, and no movement forward can be made until the individual wishes it himself. Progress cannot be forced upon him. Thus in the scheme of creation the blessed Creator has devised this wonderful means of appealing to the main interest on earth of each one. Everyone comes in touch with the chief longing of earth life, and is given opportunity to indulge in it, thus progress ms assured.
In all things that are purely and solely of the earth, the interest flags after a little time; a gradual process—nothing is dramatic here—and the person passes from this to another interest which on earth would be called a mental one. Those whose interests have been in this mind category will continue and enlarge the scope of their work, and will progress along the same lines—the others change.
Whilst in this Blue Island each one is very much in touch with the conditions left behind. At first there is nothing done but what is both helpful and comforting—later there is a refining process to be gone through. At first it is possible to be closely in touch with the home left behind, but after a little time, there is a reaction from this desire to be so close to earth, and when that sets in the process of eliminating earth, and flesh instincts begins. In each case this takes a different course, a different length of time.
In trying thus to explain the use of this land and its buildings, I have not numbered them “Building A” for so-and-so, “Building B” for this, that and the other, but, in a conversational way, I hope I have helped you to understand and form a general idea of this country and some of its conditions. I hope I have made it clear now, after a time, the desire for earth things leaves us all. It may be a short or long time, according to the disposition of the person concerned. Take the athlete. He loves his games, his running, his physical strength and his muscular exercise. Well, he will love it here as much. He will love it here more, because he will find an added pleasure in feeling no fatigue, a sharpened enjoyment altogether, but after a time his appreciation of all this will change. He will not dislike this hitherto loved sport, but he will pass to a different form of it. A form which is full of movement and satisfaction but not a physical affair at all; his mind will become more awake, and he will get enormous mental satisfaction from the studies which will come before him concerning the ways and means of travel here. Locomotion of all kinds here is very different to that which obtains in earth conditions, and this former athlete of earth will drop into line in his new surroundings and will presently realize that life here is a different thing for him, for, though still on the same lines, it holds an increased mental interest. Is that clear?.. Well, apply it in the same fashion to every other type of individual.
Life On The Island
HAVING given you a little idea of this land and its appearance, I want to tell you about the life of the people here, so that you can form a mental picture in completeness. It is only natural that many should say, “What are they all doing?” Now, this is a very broad question to answer, and to help you to see how big a thing I am dealing with in thus attempting to give my story of the next life I must put a simple question to you.
I want you to try to imagine you have not been living on earth and that, knowing nothing of earth life, you have suddenly been landed by an airship in the busiest part of the city of London—with all its traffic and its people. You have arrived from some other world and have not seen this sight before. You will exclaim, “How strange.. What are they all doing?” Well, could you answer that question easily? It would not mean much to you to be told they are going about their own individual business—one man bakes bread, another sweeps the streets, another drives a cart, and another sits in an office and runs a business—all that would leave you none the wiser. These are facts, and yet you would not understand them. You could not comprehend them. That is my difficulty in trying to make you understand in a satisfactory way the life of this Blue Isle. I have to consider how to explain it. It is no use my telling you that one person sits by the sea all the time, weeping because of her parting from her lover, and another is in a mental stupor for drink, and another still thinks he is ringing the bells of his local chapel on Sunday, etc., etc.—that is not the life, those are only bits of it. Atoms of the whole. I do not want to particularize, I want to generalize, with some detail. Therefore I must say that if you were to pay this land a visit in your earth bodies, as you are at present, you would be struck by the lack of excitement. You would think it all so like earth. That is what you would say to people on your return. “Oh, it’s so much like our life here, only there are a lot of different races of mankind there.”
Everyday life for the individual is strikingly like the everyday life he’s always been used to. At first he takes a great deal of rest, having the earth habit of sleep— and it is a necessity—he needs sleep here, too, for the present. We have no night as you have, but he sleeps and rests just the same. He has his interests in visiting different parts, in exploring the land and its building and in studying its animal and vegetable life. He has friends to seek out and to see. He has his pastimes to indulge. He has his newfound desire for knowledge to feed.
The routine of a day here is similar to the routine of a day on earth; the difference being that earth’s routine is often made by force of circumstance, whereas, here it is made according to desire for knowledge on this or that subject.
In clothing, we are all practically as on earth, and as there are so many races here you can well understand the general appearance of this land is most unusual, and in an odd way particularly interesting and amusing, also instructive. I think I have said that in general appearance we all are as we all were. We are only a very little way from earth, and consequently up to this time we have not thrown off earth ideas. We have gained some new ones, but have as yet discarded few or none.
The process of discarding is a gradual one. As we live here we gain knowledge of many kinds, and come to find so many things, hitherto thought essential, not only of no importance but something of a bore, a nuisance, and that is how we grow to a state of dropping all earth habits. We get to the state of not desiring a smoke, not because we can’t have it, or think it not right, but because the desire for it is not there. As with a smoke, so with food, so with many a dozen things; we are just as satisfied without them. We do not miss them; if we did we should have them, and we do have them until the desire is no longer there.
At first there is practical freedom of thought and action, and there are only certain limitations imposed—not by rule but by conditions. Beyond these limitations there is absolute freedom. After a time, when the spirit has advanced to the point of desiring knowledge and enlightenment, he will be drawn like a piece of steel to a magnet, into contact with this or that house of organization dealing with the subject on which he desires knowledge. From the time of coming into touch with this house the spirit will be, as it were, “at school.” He will perforce have to attend this house of instruction. He will spend a good deal of his time there learning, and, when finished with one house, will pass to another, but it is not compulsory information, it is craved-for information, and nothing is given until asked for. You are not forced to acquire anything. You are more than ever free agents. That is why on earth it is so essential to control your bodies by your minds, and not the reverse. When you come here your mind is all powerful, and everything depends, for your own degree of happiness here, upon the kind of mind you bring with you.
The presence or absence of contentment is entirely due to the earth life you have led, the character formed, opportunities taken and lost, the motive of and for your actions, the help given, the manner of help received, your mental outlook and your use and abuse of flesh power. To sum all these up it is the quality of mind control over body versus body over mind. Mind matters and body matters; it is in your keeping entirely and is in whatever state you have made it by your life. On your arrival here the degree of your happiness will be determined automatically by the demands of your mind.
When you are inclined to ask, “What are they all doing there?” turn your mind to some dear one on earth who has taken up an out-of-the-way kind of life somewhere abroad, where you are not in constant and intimate touch, and say of him, “I wonder what he’s doing now?”.. Then answer it yourself by saying “I suppose he’s carrying on.” So are we, we people in the Blue Island.
Intimate Life
THERE is a good deal of reasoning and argument as to why in earth life we should do this or that. Why we should refrain from many of the delights of everyday life and why we should “go straight.”
People say it is handicapping in their business or their profession to have to observe these “nice points.” They may not confess this thought openly, but to themselves they do—they do not see why such-and-such should not be done. True, they think it may injure so-and-so’s business a little, but that is his affair.
All in ignorance.
There is a reason, and that reason can be very easily found by the rule of common sense. I almost might call this a discourse upon cause and effect.
Earth life has deteriorated. The whole scheme of creation is planned with great precision, with the object of allowing free individual development and progress. Its rules are laid down clearly. Every man knows by instinct when he is obeying and when disobeying these rules. It needs no police officer to tell him. He may deceive himself that such an act is all that it should be, but at the same time he knows in his own consciousness that, that act or thought is not only not all that it should be but that it is all that it ought not to be. I say that all mankind knows—but most of mankind prefers to think it does not know.
Not one person on earth can stand up and say I am not speaking a profound truth here!
Mostly these things are not considered from the point of right or wrong, but from the view, “Shall I benefit by this?”—but I say that all people on earth can discriminate, I do not say that they do, between good and not good motive in their lives. Instinct does this for them. They cannot help themselves. They are bound to know. The trouble is that the vast majority by force of habit, the desire for business gain, or social gain, or any kind of gain, but always a gain for itself, has ceased to consider the quality of its actions and thinks only of the first result. It is a pity. It is more than that, Looked upon from the next stage in evolution it is PITIFUL. Poor undeveloped egos, preparing their own discomfort and suffering—not a hell fire but a mental torture.
The self or spirit of a man is encased in his mind, and, examined in a purely physical way, the brain is the most baffling organ of the body scientific man ever had to deal with. Much can be understood; all never will be. Judged as being the casing and instrument of the soul it becomes an even more delicate and intricate and baffling piece of work. You all know that mind is the generating-house for all your acts and deeds, but you do not fully appreciate the fact that every act and every thought is “booked”—is recorded.
You do not see the elaborate scheme of work which goes on in any of your large business houses, when you buy something and do not pay at once. It is booked and passes through many hands before the bill is sent to you a little later, and having paid the bill you forget it all, but the record of that business house has it still. So with the brain; an act or a thought, no matter what the quality, is recorded for all time. Settling will come after life, and when paid the “book” is finished with and troubles no more, though the record is still there. Now follow me. Mind and its work—thought— is the force that drives and creates everything on earth. It has all to be mental before physical or material. That you all know. Every building was conceived mentally before being built.
Thought is divided in itself into different types. There is the thought of your next meal which is of no particular interest, and there are the thoughts constructive and destructive. These are important. There are the purely personal thoughts. Sometimes advantageous and sometimes the reverse. Now, the all-important forms of thought are the constructive and destructive. The others referring to your meals, your clothes, your appearance, your anything you like, these are not of importance until they are allowed to hinder the flow of constructive thought; when they do this the character of these same thoughts changes and becomes destructive.
It is the material embodiment of destructive thought which causes most of the distress and misery in the world. The sum total goes on increasing, and will continue to increase, until mankind as a whole, and individually, will listen and try to understand a little more about himself beyond what is necessary for him to know for the selling of his goods, and thus give fuller play to the beneficent action of constructive thought which alone can redeem and save the world.
More About Intimate Life
TO a great extent the individual hardships of earth life are directly due to wrong thinking. I am fully aware that people are placed in many different positions right from birth. Some inherit unhappiness and difficulty from their parents, and their lot in life is harder and their pleasures are less than in the lives of those who are born in better conditions.
Accepting these differences of position and condition— one man a life of much hard work, another a comfortable and perhaps rather idle life—the same rule of thought applies. The man who has grown up under hard conditions is by circumstances forced into a groove of thought—a regular rut. He cannot help himself because there are no real attempts made by any to change his outlook; he may meet with material help from time to time, but he meets with little practical mental assistance. He is under the disadvantage of his lifelong earth conditions, and is in ignorance because he does not understand and has little opportunity for learning about these things; by his thought he adds to his difficulties instead of easing and finally removing many of them. The other man, who is comfortably settled and has no particular worries, does precisely the same thing. He trudges along in the same mental rut—stagnation, “Mental Stagnation,” and the same results will fall to them both hereafter. They are both building up their future states.
Then there are people of keen intelligence, clever people, who use their brains to achieve material gain no matter the cost to others. These people are indulging in the most positive form of destructive thought. They are not like the other two—negative. They are very alive, alert and positive. They are at once using destructive and constructive thought. The latter is entirely misapplied, and when they come here the account against them will be much heavier, because they will have built up a wall of greedy thought which themselves have originally sent out and which they must settle in this next condition.
A thought—no matter the heading it comes under—that has come into your mind and which you have sent out, is an accomplished thing so far as your mind goes. Your physical act may or may not keep swift accompaniment with the thought; that does not matter from the point of view of what you are building up for yourself here. Once having had his thought it is done, so far as your mind is concerned, and, whether you follow it up actively or not, you have to make repayment for it when you come here. I am not speaking about the thousand trivial thoughts of every hour, but about those which I might describe as having personality.
You will say it is impossible to control every thought of the day, and I agree that it is, but if once you accepted for fact what I have said you would keep a sharp eye on your mental actions. They matter. You will find this very difficult to accept because it is indeed an intimate thing for each one; you do not know each other’s thoughts whilst upon earth, therefore I have headed this chapter “Intimate Life.”
Each of you will live to thank the person who is responsible for giving you this information if you act upon it, and those of you who hear and know but do not act upon the knowledge, will have one day to cast reproaches upon yourselves for this failure.
To realize oneself that one has failed is far more bitter than the consciousness that others know it.
Think upon this and reason a little with your own inner self.
Excerpt from The Blue Island: Experiences Of A New Arrival Beyond The Veil
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