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A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament...out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the
spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile
anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere,
O my soul.
..............................................................Walt Whitman




If I were forced to distill, (from my books), what is a fairly enormous vat of
chunky and hearty stew into a single cup of clear broth,
 I suppose that the message steaming from that cup
would read something like this:
"Our lives are not as limited as we think they are;
the world is a wonderfully weird place;
 consensual reality is significantly flawed;
 no institution can be trusted, but love does work;
all things are possible; and we all could be happy
and fulfilled if we only had the guts to be truly free
and the wisdom to shrink our egos and quit
taking ourselves so damn seriously."

                                                        
                                                             Tom Robbins


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