And There Is No Living Creature, Though

Of Course, Mysticism Is Very Hard To Isolate Because, Given The Kind Of Consciousness That I Was Sort Of Instructed In As Religious Consciousness; That Borders On Mysticism So Closely That It's Hard To Know Whether You Qualify Or Not, Or Whether Mysticism Is Artificially Isolated When It Is Treated As A Separate Thing From Experience. Obviously, Mysticism Can Be A Form Of Madness, But Then Consciousness Can Be A Form Of Madness.

I Wrote Almost All Of It In The Deepest Hope And Conviction. Sifting My Thoughts And Choosing My Words. Trying To Say What Was True. And I'll Tell You Frankly, That Was Wonderful.

Any Human Face Is A Claim On You, Because You Can't Help But Understand The Singularity Of It, The Courage And Loneliness Of It. But This Is Truest Of The Face Of An Infant. I Consider That To Be One Kind Of Vision, As Mystical As Any.

I Want To Overhear Passionate Arguments About What We Are And What We Are Doing And What We Ought To Do. I Want To Feel That Art Is An Utterance Made In Good Faith By One Human Being To Another. I Want To Believe There Are Geniuses Scheming To Astonish The Rest Of Us, Just For The Pleasure Of It.

The Assumption Behind Any Theology That I've Ever Been Familiar With Is That There Is A Profound Beauty In Being, Simply In Itself. Poetry, At Least Traditionally, Has Been An Educing Of The Beauty Of Language, The Beauty Of Experience, The Beauty Of The Working Of The Mind, And So On. The Pastor Does, Indeed, Appreciate It.