I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is inprobably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it-or my observation of it-is temporary?

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns it calls me on and on across the universe.

The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.