Embedded Files
[26]
There is being ancient and there is seeming ancient. There is being new and there is seeming new.
[27]
The city breeds mockery gods.
[28]
The gods are hilarious & mad.
[29]
The eerie way in which life and non-life co-inhabit the same phenomena; and that strange brink can always be present in a consciousness.
[30]
Views to which the response can’t be to emit light. The life force comes in all right, and its effect is to create discomposure.
[31]
The cultures rickety and thin, the island’s nature firm enough.
[32]
To have someone else love me, but not love myself.
[33]
Send a substitute to the war. Send a ghost to work: To bed.
[34]
A hidden god in the bourgeois world, omnipresent within the economic imperative.
[35]
Mythic gods are beans, beads or sacs. The numinous in bourgeois romanticism is diffused as from a burst sac.
[36]
Magic alters the inner voice, the voice that forms the self and the world. Alters language.
[37]
Clean fit of grief that gives energy.
[38]
The monotheists are massing, to surrender the world.
[39]
To encode something perennial; and enter Nature thereby.
[40]
Scientists are allowed to drive forward. Artists are called to explain the rudiments over and over, the people having been taught not to know them.
[41]
Memory in flood; its manner.
[42]
Deliberately loving all sorts of people.
[43]
Don’t use observation as evidence against faith. The two systems may be separate.
When they co-exist in confluence and parallel running they mustn’t be taken to have fused.
Exciting to sense them together and separate.
[44]
Powys had a cosmology of timeless flux in which identities, mythical and human (Gods and Men) were paramount – because such things (moments, objects) are what ride the flux.
The world of the language, puritanical materialism, time, extent, monotheistic, treats identity as rubbish, even though minutely documented.
[45]
Birmingham is the product of Identity (2) and the breeder of ‘Anglicans’ (define) who couldn’t be generated by any other culture. (born in exile).
[46]
My job is to broaden my father’s bewildered looking out of his skull. Born in exile.
[47]
Driven. The Ship’s Orchestra is a hermetic work that couldn’t know what it had encoded in it.
[48]
Love mysticism, hate religion.
[49]
Distinguishable and possibly discrete trawls in experience, different in length, consistency &c.
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