The still point of the turning world
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered.
Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline.
Except for the point, the still point
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
Excerpt from T.S. Eliot Four Quartets/I: Burnt Norton, 1935
Many paths lead to paradise, as many as perhaps as there are seekers of paradise. Yet one thing is certain - there is no certain path. Some paths come to a dead end; some paths are in the end quite vain; and some paths are better transgressed than transversed. In this way, the garden designer is not the director of an experience, but provides an opening, an invitation to experience in all its multifarious possibilities.
(Competitor's text)
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