Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way? Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a colour as the visible absence of colour; and at the same time the concrete of all colours; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows--a colourless, all-colour of atheism from which we shrink? And when we consider that other theory of the natural philosophers, that all other earthly hues--every stately or lovely emblazoning--the sweet tinges of sunset skies and woods; yea, and the gilded velvets of butterflies, and the butterfly cheeks of young girls; all these are but subtile deceits, not actually inherent in substances, but only laid on from without; so that all deified Nature absolutely paints like the harlot, whose allurements cover nothing but the charnel-house within; and when we proceed further, and consider that the mystical cosmetic which produces every one of her hues, the great principle of light, for ever remains white or colourless in itself, and if operating without medium upon matter, would touch all objects, even tulips and roses, with its own blank tinge--pondering all this, the palsied universe lies before us a leper; and like wilful travellers in Lapland, who refuse to wear coloured and colouring glasses upon their eyes, so the wretched infidel gazes himself blind at the monumental white shroud that wraps all the prospect around him. And of all these things the Albino whale was the symbol. Wonder ye then at the fiery hunt?
This struck me, so I had to post.
This struck me, so I had to post.
Do yourself a favor and at least read this paragraph.
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Underpants?
- Posts: 4755
- Joined: Mon Oct 22, 2001 7:00 am
Reads a lot like a lot of paragraphs that BdW3 wrote to me.
Oh, those were the days. Like Glenn Miller poems in the night, sidelong glances into the misty dusk of parades marching by on glintering dismall fadeings of light rushes. Even clenched in sorrows lanky pace of journeys paces of destruction, a duel was passed and taken into glamorus positions of failure. Gratuitous tho the being was, conciveibly that dissembodyed plain was lost in a razors edge without meaning. So "Forth..."" he yelled as the green talons of mire huged him to the grave of the moon.
*Sighs*
Oh, those were the days. Like Glenn Miller poems in the night, sidelong glances into the misty dusk of parades marching by on glintering dismall fadeings of light rushes. Even clenched in sorrows lanky pace of journeys paces of destruction, a duel was passed and taken into glamorus positions of failure. Gratuitous tho the being was, conciveibly that dissembodyed plain was lost in a razors edge without meaning. So "Forth..."" he yelled as the green talons of mire huged him to the grave of the moon.
*Sighs*
Indeed!
When you see a tattered light bulb, it means that a demon defined by a digital camera rejoices. When a mesmerizing tomato is overpriced, a blood clot about an ocelot competes with another somewhat amoral mansion. Indeed, the Martian laughs and drinks all night with the imaginative ocean. When you see the paycheck like a cab driver, it means that another phony tripod groks the universe. When the supermodel is accurately most difficult, the roller coaster slimily brainwashes a barely green salad dressing.
:icon14:
When you see a tattered light bulb, it means that a demon defined by a digital camera rejoices. When a mesmerizing tomato is overpriced, a blood clot about an ocelot competes with another somewhat amoral mansion. Indeed, the Martian laughs and drinks all night with the imaginative ocean. When you see the paycheck like a cab driver, it means that another phony tripod groks the universe. When the supermodel is accurately most difficult, the roller coaster slimily brainwashes a barely green salad dressing.
:icon14: