The Things That Stayed Were Things That

Fiction Becomes Visual By Becoming Verbal

The Death Of God Represents Not Only The Realization That Gods Have Never Existed, But The Contention That Such A Belief Is No Longer Even Irrationally Possible: That Neither Reason Nor The Taste And Temper Of The Times Condones It. The Belief Lingers On, Of Course, But It Does So Like Astrology Or A Faith In A Flat Earth.

I Hate Ideologies Of All Kinds, So I Avoid Jargon. I've Done Enough Philosophy To Know That Some Specialized Terms Are Really Needed. I Don't Complain When Kant Does It. Or When Aristotle Introduces All Kinds Of New Words; He Needed Them. But These Other People [modern Philosophers] Are Just Obfuscating. It Just Makes Me Annoyed.

Surely It's Better To Live In The Country, To Live On A Prairie By A Drawing Of Rivers, In Iowa Or Illinois Or Indiana, Say, Than In Any City, In Any Stinking Fog Of Human Beings, In Any Blooming Orchard Of Machines. It Ought To Be.

The Alcoholic Trance Is Not Just A Haze, As Though The Eyes Were Also Unshaven. It Is Not A Mere Buzzing In The Ears, A Dizzinessor Disturbance Of Balance. One Arrives In The Garden Again, At Nursery Time, When The Gentle Animals Are Fed And In All The World There Are Only Toys.