Sunday, May 27
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"Last night I had the strangest dream. I was in a laboratory with Dr. Boas and he was talking to me and a group of other people about religion, insisting that life must have a meaning, that man couldn't live without that. Then he made a mass of jelly-like stuff of the most beautiful blue I had ever seen - and he seemed to be asking us all what to do with it. I remember thinking it was very beautiful but wondering helplessly what it was for. People came and went making absurd suggestions. Somehow Dr. Boas tried to carry them out - but always the people went away angry, or disappointed - and finally after we'd been up all night they had all disappeared and there were just the two of us. He looked at me and said, appealingly "Touch it." I took some of the astonishingly blue beauty in my hand, and felt with a great thrill that it was living matter. I said "Why it's life - and that's enough" - and he looked so pleased that I had found the answer - and said yes "It's life and that is wonder enough."
 - Virginia Woolf
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  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov