Those who insist there is beauty only in filth
are as silly as those who see it only in purity:
beauty, like god, is everywhere
and nowhere.

Things exist in order that the difference between them might exist.
This space, this separation of definitions, is the blossoming of creation
to which the edges are only punctuation.

Looking at a volume of water,
how much can we care, really,
that it was once a large number of snowflakes,
no two the same?