The Earth Is A Farm. We Are

[wise Men] Have Tried To Understand Our State Of Being, By Grasping At Its Stars, Or Its Arts, Or Its Economics. But, If There Is An Underlying Oneness Of All Things, It Does Not Matter Where We Begin, Whether With Stars, Or Laws Of Supply And Demand, Or Frogs, Or Napoleon Bonaparte. One Measures A Circle, Beginning Anywhere.

A Procession Of The Damned. By The Damned, I Mean The Excluded. We Shall Have A Procession Of Data That Science Has Excluded.

Sometimes I Am A Collector Of Data, And Only A Collector, And Am Likely To Be Gross And Miserly, Piling Up Notes, Pleased With Merely Numerically Adding To My Stores. Other Times I Have Joys, When Unexpectedly Coming Upon An Outrageous Story That May Not Be Altogether A Lie, Or Upon A Macabre Little Thing That May Make Some Reviewer Of My More Or Less Good Works Mad. But Always There Is Present A Feeling Of Unexplained Relations Of Events That I Note, And It Is This Far-away, Haunting, Or Often Taunting, Awareness, Or Suspicion, That Keeps Me Piling On.

In Measuring A Circle, One Begins Anywhere.

Peasants Have Believed In Dowsing, And Scientists Used To Believe That Dowsing Was Only A Belief Of Peasants. Now There Are So Many Scientists Who Believe In Dowsing That The Suspicion Comes To Me That It May Only Be A Myth After All.