“The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and the vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. Loving makes love. Loving makes itself. We waste time looking for the perfect lover instead of creating the perfect love. Wouldn’t that be the way to make love stay?”—Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker
“I didn’t want a steady job in an office or a factory. I thought myself too good for that, not because I was stuck-up but because any human being is too good for that kind of no-life, even white people. I trained myself to need and want as little as I could be so that I wouldn’t have to work except when I felt like it. That way I could get along fine with plenty of spare time to think, to ask, to learn, to listen, and to count coup on the girls.”—
“Never loving ourselves,
Hating even our shoes and our hats,
We love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
The children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
To eat up all the weird abundance.”
-Sexton, from The Black Art”—
“I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magic forces of the world.”—
If a rabid raccoon was chasing you down the street, and you turn your head and see a open meadow and on the other side a alleyway, which would you dare to run down? At the end of one of those answers is a wild pack of angry beaver people... I hope you choose correctly. Or death.... :(
What odd place would I be running in which there is an alleyway (I assume dark and foreboding) adjacent to an open meadow (I assume pristine and inviting)? I’m gonna go with the meadow, get away from the town full of rabid rodents and (presumably) angry beaver-people.