In The Days Of The Frost Seek

The Plan Is Not What You Think.

When The Human Mind Exists In The Light Of Reason And No More Than Reason, We May Say With Absolute Certainty That Man And All That Made Him Will Be In That Instant Gone.

As We Passed Under A Streetlamp I Noticed, Beside My Own Bobbing Shadow, Another Great, Leaping Grotesquerie That Had An Uncanny Suggestion Of The Frog World About It . . . Judging From The Shadow, It Was Soaring Higher And More Gaily Than Myself. 'very Well,' You Will Say, 'why Didn’t You Turn Around. That Would Be The Scientific Thing To Do.' But Let Me Tell You It Is Not Done ― Not On An Empty Road At Midnight.

Since The First Human Eye Saw A Leaf In Devonian Sandstone And A Puzzled Finger Reached To Touch It, Sadness Has Lain Over The Heart Of Man. By This Tenuous Thread Of Living Protoplasm, Stretching Backward Into Time, We Are Linked Forever To Lost Beaches Whose Sands Have Long Since Hardened Into Stone. The Stars That Caught Our Blind Amphibian Stare Have Shifted Far Or Vanished In Their Courses, But Still That Naked, Glistening Thread Winds Onward. No One Knows The Secret Of Its Beginning Or Its End. Its Forms Are Phantoms. The Thread Alone Is Real; The Thread Is Life.

I Am What I Am And Cannot Be Otherwise Because Of The Shadows.