When Man Becomes Greater Than

The Plan Is Not What You Think.

I Once Saw, On A Flower Pot In My Own Living Room, The Efforts Of A Field Mouse To Build A Remembered Field. I Have Lived To See This Episode Repeated In A Thousand Guises, And Since I Have Spent A Large Portion Of My Life In The Shade Of A Nonexistent Tree I Think I Am Entitled To Speak For The Field Mouse.

The Secret, If One May Paraphrase A Savage Vocabulary, Lies In The Egg Of Night.

There Is Nothing Very 'normal' About Nature.

What If I Am, In Some Way, Only A Sophisticated Fire That Has Acquired An Ability To Regulate Its Rate Of Combustion And To Hoard Its Fuel In Order To See And Walk?