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You don't believe in Nature anymore. It's too isolated from you. You've abstracted it. It's so messy and damaged and sad. Your eyes glaze as you travel life's highway past all the crushed animals and the Big Gulp cups.
There is a certain type of conversation one hears only when one is drunk and it is like a dream, full of humor and threat and significance, deep significance.
Nothing we do is inevitable, but everything we do is irreversible.
Did the walls of the barn start to tremble _x000D__x000D_With a glory they could not contain? _x000D__x000D_Did anyone wake with the feeling _x000D__x000D_Of peace that they could not explain? _x000D__x000D_Oh the love must have been overwhelming _x000D__x000D_As it warmed everyone in it's flow _x000D__x000D_For all of the earth is still telling _x000D__x000D_of 2000 Decembers ago.
One writes to find words' meanings.
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