You Can Only Kill Disappointment With A

And Because We Are Alive, The Universe Must Be Said To Be Alive. We Are Its Consciousness As Well As Our Own. We Rise Out Of The Cosmos And We See Its Mesh Of Patterns, And It Strikes Us As Beautiful. And That Feeling Is The Most Important Thing In All The Universe—its Culmination, Like The Color Of The Flower At First Bloom On A Wet Morning.

It Was That Sort Of Sleep In Which You Wake Every Hour And Think To Yourself That You Have Not Been Sleeping At All; You Can Remember Dreams That Are Like Reflections, Daytime Thinking Slightly Warped.

There's Jevon's Paradox That The Better We Get At Efficiently Using Energy The More Energy We Use; So That And That Machine Technology Improvements Per Se Do Not Necessarily Reduce Our Impacts Because We Immediately Double Down On How Much We Use.

How Was It That Destruction Could Be So Beautiful? Was There Something In The Scale Of It? Was There Some Shadow In People, Lusting For It? Or Was It Just A Coincidental Combination Of The Elements, The Final Proof That Beauty Has No Moral Dimension?

You Could Never Teach Other People Anything That Mattered. The Important Things They Had To Learn For Themselves, Almost Always By Making Mistakes, So That The Lessons Arrived Too Late To Help. Experience Was In That Sense Useless. It Was Precisely What Could Not Be Passed Along In A Lesson.