The progress of our soul is like a perfect poem.
It has an infinite idea which once realized makes all movements full of meaning and joy.
But if we detach its movements from that ultimate idea,
if we do not see the infinite rest and only see the infinite motion,
then existence appears to us a monstrous evil,
impetuously rushing towards an unending aimlessness.
Welcome to AnInfiniteIdea.org
the Official Website of Writer and Essayist S. R. Piccoli