Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life ( Read more... )

He who has never loved, let him love!
He who has loved, let him love!

The poet understands the incomprehensible.
Things that hate each other he calls friends.
He walks calmly in the night because he knows
that all paths are impossible.

I have not read much of her work: a sentence here, a paragraph there, a glance over a table of contents. But what I have read I carry with me: sharp and prismatic, like miraculous unmelting crystals of ice ( Read more... )

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your LJ along with these instructions.

She wedded, story tells ( Read more... )

Our local cheap supermarket is going out of business and looks more like Siberia every time we go in. It's interesting to see what is left on the shelves: solid walls of SPAM, yellow mustard, canned green beans of every brand and, in what used to be the dollar aisle, an unexplicable mountain of men's white socks.

Not all infinite sets contain exactly the same elements.

The spiritual level does not contradict, but exists in paradox with the literal. There's a definite tension between them. Once I thought the spiritual hatched from the literal, leaving it an empty shell. But can the spiritual truth emerge from the egg without breaking it, even somehow keeping it full? The lantern is large with the light that ( Read more... )

And the work is play for mortal stakes. . .

( the spirit of Artemis )