I Am Not Nearly So Interested In

Man Is Dragged Hither And Thither, At One Moment By The Blind Instincts Of The Forest, At The Next By The Strange Intuitions Of A Higher Self Whose Rationale He Doubts And Does Not Understand.

Each Man Deciphers From The Ancient Alphabets Of Nature Only Those Secrets That His Own Deeps Possess The Power To Endow With Meaning.

I No Longer Cared About Survival...i Merely Loved.

Man Inhabits A Realm Half In And Half Out Of Nature, His Mind Reaching Forever Beyond The Tool, The Uniformity, The Law, Into Some Realm Which Is That Of The Mind Alone.

Every Time We Walk Along A Beach Some Ancient Urge Disturbs Us So That We Find Ourselves Shedding Shoes And Garments Or Scavenging Among Seaweed And Whitened Timbers Like The Homesick Refugees Of A Long War... Mostly The Animals Understand Their Roles, But Man, By Comparison, Seems Troubled By A Message That, It Is Often Said, He Cannot Quite Remember Or Has Gotten Wrong... Bereft Of Instinct, He Must Search Continually For Meanings... Man Was A Reader Before He Became A Writer, A Reader Of What Coleridge Once Called The Mighty Alphabet Of The Universe.