I am not manic depressive, I am a human being (this is not to say that manic depressives are not human beings). This is my life, which I am attempting to write down because it will do me no small amount of good. You should read it because I love you right up to your head.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
What, I ask any of you, is so subversive, so utterly detestable in paganism? Whether man assigns creation to one god or several, does it make a difference? If we worship the wind that whispers in the leaves, the woods that bear forth ships, the curling smoke of the fire of sacrifice, are we turning inward and expelling from our eyes the light of the world? Is a god of justice and a god of anger any less preferable to a God of justice and of anger? Is a single moral exultancy concomitant with our findings that there is one way of living and loving on the earth? And if we raise our hands and altars to the love of all things, do we inevitably exalt our own selves only as if looking in a mirror?
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