"The egg it is the source of all. Tis everyone's ancestral hall. The bravest chief that ever fought, The lowest thief that e'er was caught, The harlot's lip, the maiden's leg, They each and all came from an egg."

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... I was reminded of a remark of Willa Cather's, that you can't paint sunlight, you can only paint what it does with shadows on a wall. If you examine a life, as Socrates has been so tediously advising us to do for so many centuries, do you really examine a life, or do you examine the shadows it casts on other lives? Entity or relationships? Objective reality or the vanishing point of a multiple perspective exercise? Prism or the rainbows it refracts? And what if you're the wall? What if you never cast a shadow or rainbow of your own, but have only caught those cast by others?

— Wallace Stegner