[b]Philip Larkin
I can’t understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: It’s like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife.[/b]
Let’s explain how we write philosophy. And then see what happens.
Something, like nothing, happens anywhere.
Really, how can nothing happen anywhere? Let alone reconfigure into something everywhere.
Sex means nothing–just the moment of ecstasy, that flares and dies in minutes.
Unless of course you count reproduction.
I have a sense of melancholy isolation, life rapidly vanishing, all the usual things. It’s very strange how often strong feelings don’t seem to carry any message of action.
You wonder: What was nature thinking?
I’m terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I ‘do’ anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on 'time’s - it doesn’t of course. It merely adds the torment of having done nothing, when the time comes when it really doesn’t matter if you’ve done anything or not.
You wonder: What was nature thinking?
Since the majority of me
Rejects the majority of you,
Debating ends forthwith, and we
Divide.
Next thing you know, we’re huffing and puffing.