'too much, not enough'

Since the receipt of the missive in the morning, B__ had felt the symmetry of his existence to be slowly getting distorted in the direction of an ideal passion. The disturbance was as the first floating weed to Columbus — the contemptibly little suggesting possibilities of the infinitely great...Her mouth — were the lips red or pale, plump or creased? — had curved itself to a certain expression...

B___, of course, did not know. And such an explanation did not strike him as a possibility even. It is foreign to a mystified condition of mind to realize of the mystifier that the processes of approving a course suggested by circumstance, and of striking out a course from inner impulse, would look the same in the result. The vast difference between starting a train of events, and directing into a particular groove a series already started, is rarely apparent to the person confounded by the issue.

----fftmc.

~~~

Strings:

Talking to A.I., a string theorist. It seems the latest thing is that the world (universe) is the way it is because that's the way it is. Perfect symmetry already contains chaos. It doesn't matter which way you put it. And there's no real explanation (don't ask for one!). It had to be. Or else there wouldn't be individuals like us, right now, at this very moment, asking: why does it have to be?

What little I understand:

If the sun were a degree closer we'd be consumed by its fire, light...disappear in her flames; if it was a centimeter further away we'd be frozen, our souls hardening, forgetting, our thick fingers fumbling in deep pockets, a quick death due to the lack of heat, light. A word, an image; part of you becomes hard, another softens, melts. There are no more questions.

On earth there are always reminders of this precarious balance: too much, not enough. Some things are infinitely far from us, and at the same time infinitely close.

The world is the world. What sense is in this. One might as well say the queen is the queen!

~~~

There's something animal-like in Boldwood's response. That always struck you. The red seal matching the red of his bleary eyes. Red was everywhere. And he's hooked to it. Why this effect on the Puritan soul? His resistance breaking down by the mere mention of a few words, sent only casually. Later, she will wish that the words could be erased, wiped away, but it's too late..they've already lodged deeply in his flesh.