Follow The Accident, Fear The Fixed Plan--that

These Last Few Days I've Felt Godless. I've Felt Cleaner, Less Muddled, Less Blind. I Still Believe In A God. But He's So Remote, So Cold, So Mathematical. I See That We Have To Live As If There Is No God. Prayer And Worship And Singing Hymns-all Silly And Useless.

I Am Talking About The General Psychological Health Of The Species, Man. He Needs The Existence Of Mysteries. Not Their Solution.

I Just Think Of Things As Beautiful Or Not. Can't You Understand? I Don't Think Of Good Or Bad. Just Of Beautiful Or Ugly. I Think A Lot Of Nice Things Are Ugly And A Lot Of Nasty Things Are Beautiful.

...all Cynicism Masks A Failure To Cope.

Whole Sight; Or All The Rest Is Desolation.