Order is not sufficient. What is required, is something much more complex. It is order entering upon novelty; so that the massiveness of order does not degenerate into mere repetition; and so that the novelty is always reflected upon a background of system.
The most complex object in mathematics, the Mandelbrot Set ... is so complex as to be uncontrollable by mankind and describable as 'chaos'.
It may happen that small differences in the initial conditions produce very great ones in the final phenomena.
Someone gave me wishes and I wished for an embrace.
I tore the dreams from my head and tossed them in the flames. And the smoke smelled like my past, and it stung my eyes but I was too stubborn to blink.
Follow me, the wise man said, but he walked behind.
Home is where the heart is, until we get a chance to bury it. Home is where the heart pulled the nails out of its feet, and fled.
Wishin' was dyin' but I gotta make it all this way to that bed on these feet.
The place I live in is a kind of maze and I keep seeking the exit or the home.
We almost always live outside ourselves, and life itself is a continual dispersion. But it's towards ourselves that we tend, as towards a centre around which, like planets, we trace absurd and distant ellipses.
Look for a tree stump in the woods. Compare it to love.
We are using our own skins for wallpaper and we cannot win.
Thinking is my fighting.
Brother woke just after midnight and he didn't make a sound, and as he climbed from out of bed with severed rings around his head, his feet didn't touch the ground. I could feel it then-a tiny miracle-so I followed him into the woods, crossed beneath the trees but only I left my prints in tow, he was afloat. He found a lonely tree and tied himself within its limbs, and he said to me these words: 'Don't you fear for me, I am where I'm supposed to be.'
Human, all too human.
Sometimes I think I can expiate all my past and future sins through the aching of my bones.
Everybody's bones are just holy branches cast from trees to cut patterns in the world. And in time we find some shelter, spill our leaves, and then sleep in the earth. And when we're there, we'll belong, 'cause the earth don't give a damn if you're lost.
Life alone can rekindle life.
When she is alone in the rooms I hear her humming to keep herself from thinking.
I went walking around the city some more, people watching with a cold, blank stare. And I saw your face in everyone, I swear.
But I tried, didn't I? Goddamnit, at least I did that.
There is an objective reality in which my body and mind are one. But I am not here and never have been.
Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?
Every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence. We are aware.
Sleepwalking down the hall like a firefly in the fog.
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