"There's a wood near us. I can't see the wood for the words. Probably the wood is wonderful. My intuition tells me it is. But unless intuition is knowledge, I really don't know. And even if intuition is knowledge, all that I get from my intuition is the generic assertion, "This wood is wonderful." I cant see any particulars. I can't get an uninterrupted view of a flower petal or the hair on a caterpillar's back. My words about petals and caterpillar hairs get in the way. I am appalled by the distance between a petal and the word "petal": by the dissonance between the word "hair" and a hair--let alone between the word "hair" and the hair. When I think Ive described a wood, I'm really describing the creaking architecture of my own mind." Charles Foster shares more in this thought-provoking essay.
