~Undivided Wholeness In Flowing Movement~

"We are all thieves pretending to be policemen trying to catch ourselves." -Alain Naude

At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman, and these hills, the softness of the sky, the outline of these trees at this very minute lose the illusory meaning with which we had clothed them, henceforth more remote than a lost paradise. The primitive hostility of the world rises up to face us across millennia, for a second we cease to understand it because for centuries we have understood in it solely the images and designs that we had attributed to it beforehand, because henceforth we lack the power to make use of that artifice. The world evades us because it becomes itself again.

—Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (via intellectual-poaching)

"A continual challenging of everything deprives one of the power of proceeding by separate operations, obliges one to express oneself through rapid flashes, to free as much as is possible the expression of one’s thought from a project, to include everything in a few sentences: anguish, decision and the right to the poetic perversion of words without which it would seem that one was subject to a domination."

- Georges Bataille

Flowers find their roots in dead, rotted things, and spilt blood is beautiful. Heartache is broken emotion and raw, ugly deeds and yet we covet the chance to know her. Beauty springs from bruised skin and burning cities. Why may not I, then, learn from that which blossoms in blood? Why may not I imitate the volatile beginnings of some sun kissed, war begotten maid?
In star crossed lovers and bright eyed violets, I hope there is some little part of me remembered.

The Beautiful Sine.

Welcome to Life.

Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.

- Chomsky, Syntactic Structures 1957.

"…If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
- Nietzsche

"…If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

- Nietzsche

Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.

Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.

"Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures." This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.

When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: “my travels have changed me…”

Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: “every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”