All Human Desire Is Poised On An

Now Every Mortal Has Pain And Sweat Is Constant, But If There Is Anything Dearer Than Being Alive, It's Dark To Me. We Humans Seem Disastrously In Love With This Thing (whatever It Is) That Glitters On The Earth-- We Call It Life. We Know No Other. The Underworld's A Blank And All The Rest Just Fantasy.

What Is The Fear Inside Language? No Accident Of The Body Can Make It Stop Burning.

It Is When You Are Asking About Something That You Realize You Yourself Have Survived It, And So You Must Carry It, Or Fashion It Into A Thing That Carries Itself.

The Self Forms At The Edge Of Desire, And A Science Of Self Arises In The Effort To Leave That Self Behind.

I Was More Worn Out With The "odyssey" Than It Was With The "iliad." I Mean, Just Comparing Those Two - You Can See How It's Changing, How The Language Of The "iliad" Is Somehow Monstrously New - And That Language Of The "odyssey" Is More Comfortable, Even For Us.