Some lusts are nothing more than impersonal appetite. Some lusts are nothing less than a profoundly personal drawing into otherness.

Was it (only) insatiable greed or was it (also) need to sail over the map’s edges?

To reduce the latter to merely the former is to obsolete the possibility of genuinely new life. The biting flies of irritability can drive you here and there, but never over into anywhere truly new.

This entry was posted in Philosophy. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply