“One wonders why, when something is nameless, it is always so much nastier?”
Why, to begin in the vernacular, if we are such an affluent society do we trade in the clutter of God?
What is the climax of our social power, a superabundance of doubt?
Why is fragmentary art so much more meaningful than the expendable randomness of facts?
Why is a ship on the horizon like the coming of fear?
Why must blood be on the diamond? Isn’t it enough to be in the heart?
If you can crush a fly, why not a city? The only thing that stands between the two are form and formlessness, the equipoise of non specificity.