What we think is less than what we know;
What we know is less than what we love;
What we love is so much less than what there is.
And to that precise extent we are so much less than what we are.
— R.D. Laing, The Politics of Experience
- The Celt and the KiowaWhen I drink, said the Celt, the world loses its edge, and the universe comes into view; my sad, suicide culture steps back from the …
- Eliot’s Month, Not Minecywydd deuair hyrion April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. …
- Preamble to a DreamThe past is but a dream, a dream: a palimpsest where writ, the scene fades in and out of nothing, fast; seems permanent, but cannot …
- The Celt and the Kiowa
Most Shared Posts
- What was I doing while others were sleeping? What did I dream while I seemed wide awake? Something o1 Shares
- Last year about this time I dug into nanowrimo and started writing an autobiographical novel. Sadly1 Shares