What A Lonely Species We Are, Searching

No Matter How Politely One Says It, We Owe Our Existence To The Farts Of Blue-green Algae.

Nature Neither Gives Nor Expects Mercy.

Things That Live By Night Live Outside The Realm Of 'normal' Time And So Suggest Living Outside The Realm Of Good And Evil, Since We Have Moralistic Feelings About Time. Chauvinistic About Our Human Need To Wake By Day And Sleep By Night, We Come To Associate Night Dwellers With People Up To No Good At A Time When They Have The Jump On The Rest Of Us And Are Defying Nature, Defying Their Circadian Rhythms.

A Self Is A Frightening Thing To Waste, It's The Lens Through Which One's Whole Life Is Viewed, And Few People Are Willing To Part With It, In Death, Or Even Imaginatively, In Art.

Of All The Errands Life Seems To Be Running, Of All The Mysteries That Enchant Us, Love Is My Favorite