Love. This is the central word of life. It is a mass. A mast. A density. And a gravity. A force. A presence. And an absence. Of such unimaginable immensity. That not even light desires to escape. We speak of it seriously, and casually, because it divides our cells. We fight wars, and build nations, because it originates the land. Love. She is everywhere. She is the lungs. She is the rose She is the very air
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Guilt is to guide. Anger is to alter. Sadness is to sink. Happiness is to hover. Fear is to fight. Disgust is to drop. Surprise is to switch. Shame is to stop. Contempt is to cut. Content is to calm
The universe is a precision-tuned instrument that reveals the exact intricacies necessary, on a cosmic scale, to support life as we know it on an intimate scale. The vastness of the expanse is neither extraneous nor waste. It is a calculation machine beyond the furthest reaches of what we have heretofore defined intelligence as encompassing. The common scientific conception of it as arising and evolving by chance, merely illustrates a scientific misunderstanding of the interrelation between the words: chance, random, and spontaneous, and an overlooking of fact that a vastly superior intelligence (the very source of all intelligence) might understand βchanceβ on a simultaneously organic and epochal level entirely capable of producing such a system through those very means