Katherine Poe’s Profile

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Japan at War: An ...
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Aberrations: An E...
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The Writing of St...
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Katherine's Recent Updates

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The White Goddess by Robert Graves
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Valerie and Her Week of Wonders by Vítězslav Nezval
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The Past is Myself by Christabel Bielenberg
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Walden Two by B.F. Skinner
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Ibn Tufayl's Hayy Ibn Yaqzan by ابن طفيل
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I and Thou by Martin Buber
“Man wishes to be confirmed in his being by man, and wishes to have a presence in the being of the other….
Secretly and bashfully he watches for a YES which allows him to be and which can come to him only from one human person to another.

Martin Buber
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The Power Of The Written Tradition by Jack Goody
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The Evolution of Communication by Marc Hauser
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More of Katherine's books…
Martin Buber
“Man wishes to be confirmed in his being by man, and wishes to have a presence in the being of the other….
Secretly and bashfully he watches for a YES which allows him to be and which can come to him only from one human person to another.

Martin Buber, I and Thou

Breece D'J Pancake
“Last night I dreamed of the "happy hunting ground." I passed through a place of bones that looked human, but weren't--the skulls were wrong. Then I came to a place where the days were the best of every season, the sweetest air and water in spring, then the dry heat where deer make dust in the road, the fog of fall with good leaves. And you could shoot without a gun, never kill, but the rabbits would do a little dance, all as if it were a game, and they were playing it too. Then winter came with heavy powder-snow, and big deer, horses, goats and buffaloes--all white--snorted, tossed their heads, and I lay down with my Army blanket, made my bed in the snow, then dreamed within the dream. I dreamed I was at Fleety's, and she told me the bones were poor people killed by bandits, and she took me back to the place, and under a huge rock where no light should have shown, a cave almost, was a dogwood tree. It glowed the kind of red those trees get at sundown, the buds were purple in that weird light, and a madman came out with an axe and chopped at the skulls, trying to make them human-looking. Then I went back to the other side of both dreams. --from a letter to his mother, Helen Pancake, where he describes a dream that seems to encapsulate the play between violence and gentleness in his life.”
Breece D'J Pancake

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