The lives of plants [are] more stirring than a detective story. The musculature of the back in motion dances a ballet. This piece of fabric should be set to music and that jar of preserves is a poem of ingenuity…You live. Eccentric. In integral solitude. In anonymous communion. With everything that is root and summit and that throbs, revels, jubilates. Phenomena of this congenital hallucination which is life in all its manifestations and the continual activity of consciousness. The motor spirals. The rhythm speaks. Chemistry. You are.
—Blaise Cendrars, “Profound Today”
My aim is: to teach you to pass from a piece of disguised nonsense to something that is patent nonsense.
—Ludwig Wittgenstein
Myriad Ways 