“In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is magic in this moist world, in how the mind lets go, slips into sleepy water, circles and nuzzles the banks of palmetto and wild iris, how it seeps across dreams, smears them into the upright world, rots the wood of treasure chests, welcomes the body home.” WorldMindHomeDreamBodyWaterMeditationMagicIdentityLetting GoWoodsCirclesTreasureChestsSlipsOur ThoughtsGlimpseFleetingElusiveSleepySwampsIrisesTreasure Chests Book:Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs, and Human Imagination Source: Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs, and Human Imagination
“I have never loved Fortune, even when she seemed most to love me. I never considered her treasures mine, neither her money, nor her office nor her influence. Her theft of these things, therefore. has taken away nothing of my own. Mother, my roof is the stars. My house is human goodness. My body is clothed. My stomach is full. And the thirstier part of me, my soul, drinks gladly from the pool of my books.So much for me. I am just fine.” HumansBookSoulBodyMotherHouseStarsMy OwnTakenInfluenceMinesFineDrinkGoodnessOfficeFortuneTreasureMy SoulStomachPoolRoofTheft Author:Walter Wangerin
“Increasingly unable to create for itself a relevant body of myth, the modern imagination will ransack the treasure house of the classic.” BodyHouseImaginationModernMythTreasureClassicRelevant Book:The death of tragedy Source: The death of tragedy
“An old body when it is loved becomes a sacred treasure; and sex itself must always, it seems to me, come to us as a sacrament and be so used or it is meaningless. The flesh is suffused by the spirit, and it is forgetting this in the act of love-making that creates cynicism and despair.” BodySeemsUsedSpiritSexForgetDespairSacredFleshTreasureMeaninglessCynicismSacramentsLove MakingActs Of Love Book:Recovering: A Journal Source: Recovering: A Journal