Keep me warm as life grows colder...

I have an idea that the only thing, which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust, is the beauty that now and then we create out of chaos. The pictures we paint, the music we compose, the books we write, and the lives we lead. Of all these, the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art. For there are only patterns, patterns on top of patterns, patterns that affect other patterns. Patterns hidden by patterns. Patterns within patterns. If you watch close, history does nothing but repeat itself. What we call chaos is just patterns we haven't recognized. What we call random is just patterns we can't decipher. what we can't understand we call nonsense. What we can't read we call gibberish. There is no free will.