A peculiar fact about termite-tapeworm-fungus-moss art is that it goes always forward, eating its own boundaries, and, likely as not, leaves nothing in its path other than the signs of eager, industrious, unkempt activity.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
The world depends on fungi, because they are major players in the cycling of materials and energy around the world.
Novelists who pretend to understand what keeps them scribbling are really just guessing. A profound, unmet childish need to be acknowledged? Maybe. It hardly matters, though. The termite that asks itself why it keeps chewing risks becoming sluggish and inefficient, as does the writer who grows self-conscious in the middle of chapter five.
From dead plant matter to nematodes to bacteria, never underestimate the cleverness of mushrooms to find new food!
If you stay with this game long enough, the worm is bound to turn.
Is it sin, which makes the worm a chrysalis, and the chrysalis a butterfly, and the butterfly dust?
When the ivy has found its tower, when the delicate creeper has found its strong wall, we know how the parasite plants grow and prosper.
I have personal problems like other people have termites.
Which came first the intestine or the tapeworm?
A rolling stone gathers no moss, but it gains a certain polish.
It is the timber of poetry that wears most surely, and there is no timber that has not strong roots among the clay and worms.