Speaking from the point of view of someone who has spent years learning how to draw a portrait and pay attention to facial features, I can say with confidence that Dr. Sexson does not look like Robert Pirsig. It's definitely the beard.
Psychic mutilation is the best that we can do for this class, but damned if we won't try.
First day of presentations: (arranged alphabetically) Sam – Rio
Day Two: Merlin – Tanner
Day Three: Elisha – Megan
Day Four: Alexandra – Jennifer
Day Five: (everybody else)
Your presentation will be 6.25 minutes. That's not so long, anyone could do that. We are not having a final exam in this class unless you want one.
There are two camps of people when it comes to Solaris – one loved it and the other got bogged down in getting to the good bits. It is the delight of the non-figurative artist and the despair of the scientist. Stevens' poetry is Solaris, the planet on the table, watery displays of these perplexing things in which we find consolation.
We have no need of other worlds. The only thing we are looking for is a mirror of ourselves.
We are searching for an ideal image of our own world.
Lucretius does not say that he doesn't believe in the gods; he just does not think that we need them. The final belief is to believe in a fiction which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else. We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. To see through a glass darkly.
Everyone has an alter ego that is part of us (our conscience). His animal loves its anima. We need to be reconnected with our daemons. To die is no more fearful to be born, you are in the void, then are present, then you return to the void from whence you came.
Who are you?
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