I Suppose I'm Saying That

If Self Is A Location, So Is Love: Bearings Taken, Markings, Cardinal Points, Options, Obstinacies, Dug Heels, And Distance, Here And There And Now And Then, A Stance.

No Bit Of The Natural World Is More Valuable Or More Vulnerable Than The Tree Bit. Nothing Is More Like Ourselves, Standing Upright, Caught Between Heaven And Earth, Frail At The Extremities, Yet Strong At The Central Trunk, And Nothing Is Closer To Us At The Beginning And At The End, Providing The Timber Boards That Frame Both The Cradle And The Coffin.

Part Of My Gradual Education Of Myself Has Been To Think That There Is A Deep Relationship Between The Nature Of The Creature And The Worth Of The Art.

Without Needing To Be Theoretically Instructed, Consciousness Quickly Realizes That It Is The Site Of Variously Contending Discourses.

Hope Is Not Optimism, Which Expects Things To Turn Out Well, But Something Rooted In The Conviction That There Is Good Worth Working For.