Hemingway said that the goal of the writer is to write one true sentence. He did not mean that in the sense of bivalent factual truth, as modern philosophy or science would interpret it, for if that had been the case, he would have met his goal when as a child, he first wrote, "My name is Ernest Hemingway." And he did not mean it in the sense of bivalent logical truth, for again he would have met his goal when he first added up a sum of numbers and got the sum right. Heminway meant accuracy of description. He meant accurate correspondence, accurate match of word with object, theory with fact, finger with moon. He meant the realm of fuzzy factual truth we think in, write in, and run science in. Fuzzy logic views truth as accuracy. And accuracy is clearly a matter of degree.
(Bart Kosko, from FUZZY THINKING)

Our poems are as worthless as money, pages as impotent as our pleas. Universal configuration, independent declaration twist our sanity into an abstract buckled by a kiss to the knees.
( Gabriel Thy, from HERITAGE)

They have all answered correctly. That is to say, each from his own nature . . . Comprehension of this aim will be, in the last analysis, a matter of each reader's own emotion meeting that of the poem . . . and there is, thirdly, logopoeia, or poetry that is akin to nothing but language, which is a dance of the intelligence among words and ideas and modifications of ideas and characters.
(Louis Zukofsky, from PREPOSITIONS)

©1997 Graphic Solutions Ink Systems

Judge Ye Not,
Lest Ye Be Judged . . .
    "WHOM are YOU to judge ME!" is a pathetic rhetorical imperative often muttered as the last resource of a dwindling dignity, heard far more often in the droll marketplace of ideas than its original intent can support, the last vestige of illiterates and the undisciplined didactic alike.