Our Life Is A Faint Tracing On

When You Open A Book,” The Sentimental Library Posters Said, “anything Can Happen.” This Was So. A Book Of Fiction Was A Bomb. It Was A Land Mine You Wanted To Go Off. You Wanted It To Blow Your Whole Day. Unfortunately, Hundreds Of Thousands Of Books Were Duds. They Had Been Rusting Out Of Everyone’s Way For So Long That They No Longer Worked. There Was No Way To Distinguish The Duds From The Live Mines Except To Throw Yourself At Them Headlong, One By One.

There Is A Muscular Energy In Sunlight Corresponding To The Spiritual Energy Of Wind.

At A Certain Point, You Say To The Woods, To The Sea, To The Mountains, The World, Now I Am Ready. Now I Will Stop And Be Wholly Attentive. You Empty Yourself And Wait, Listening.

When I First Read The Words 'introvert' And 'extrovert' When I Was 10, I Thought I Was Both.

We Wake, If We Ever Wake At All, To Mystery, Rumors Of Death, Beauty, Violence.