I am a thing that thinks, that is to say, a thing that doubts, affrims, denies, understands a few things, is ignorant of many things, wills, refrains from willing, and also imagines and senses.
I'm also a jaded and cynical immigrant. I'm very good at making plans that fall through and at talking when I shouldn't. Yet I remain an optimist, because after all -
If I am not for myself, then who will be for me?
And if I am only for myself, then what am I?
And if not now, when?
