Ask anyone what sense he would preserve above all others. Most would say sight, forfeiting a million eyes in the body for two in the skull. Blind, we could live and possibly discover wisdom. Without touch, we would turn into hunks of wood.
(...)
Windows are eyes of the house. Peer out of your prison body, others peep in. Never a one-way traffic. Seeing always implies the possibility of damaged privacy, for as eyes reveal the huge external world, our own infinite internal spaces are opened for others.
What is the fate of the eyes during sleep? They move constantly, like spectators in a theatre.
The pupils dilate during abnormal states. Drugs, madness, drunkness, paralysis, exhaustion, hypnosis, vertigo, high sexual excitement. The eye finding its ocean after the idea of oceans has ended.
Enkidu was a wild man, an animal among animals. One day a woman exposed her nakedness to him at a watering hole, and he responded. That day he left with [her] to follow the arts of civilization.
Mates are chosen first by visual appeal. Not odor, rhythm, skin. It is an error to believe that the eye caress a woman. Is a woman constructed out of light or of skin? Her image is never real in the eye, it is engraved on the ends of the fingers.
In the Ars Magna, Great Work, the Alchemist creates the world in his retort.
The eyes are the genitals of perception, and they too have established a tyranny. They have usurped the authority of the other senses. The body becomes a thin awkward stalk to support the eye on its rounds.
Why should the eyes be called windows of soul and key to deepest human communion, and touch denied as mild collisions of flesh.
The body is not the house, it is the inside of the house.
The blind copulate, eyes in their skin.
The eye is light at rest.
Jim Morrison*, Uma Oração Americana e Outros Escritos
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