Eye Like Yours
Reading -- thinking, feeling, anticipating.....
Spring morning extravaganza
Morris Dance
Nefyn
Final vocabulary
Ironism
Requiem for a tree
Spring firmament
Flowering Cherry
Entropy / Negative entropy
Redbuds ~ Arrival of the Spring
Arrival of the Spring
~ Reading ~
A garden ornament!
Photography on Aluminum
The Future of Life
Morning colours
At the Doctor's office
Box
Procrustes
THE BED OF PROCRUSTES
Frosty morning
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If you analyse it closely you will, I think, find that it is just a little bit more than the collection of single data (experiences and memories) namely the canvas upon which they are collected. And you will on close introspection, find that what you really mean but 'I' is that ground-stuff upon which they are collected. You may come to a distant country, lose sight of all your friends, may all but forget them; you acquire new friends, you share life with them as intensely as you ever did with your old ones. Less and less important will become the fact that, while living your new life, you still recollect the old one. 'The youth that was I', you may come to speak of him in the third person, indeed the protagonist of the novel you are reading is probably nearer to your heart, certainly more intensely alive and better known to you. Yet there has been no intermediate break, no death. And even if a skilled hypnotist succeeded in blotting out entirely all your earlier reminiscences, you would not find that he had killed you. In no case is there a loss of personal existence to deplore.
Nor will there ever be. ~ Page 89 / 90
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