Perhaps ambivalence, accepting the jangle of contrary tendencies while preferring not to judge, is a bird which alights nowhere but hops perpetually from bough to bough - a power which abides in no man and in no woman, but for a moment speaks from this one, and for another moment from that one.
Maybe human life is a golden impossibility, as there never was any one right course of action anyhow, and certainty will almost certainly end up in the sad state of a splitting headache, much as the wise woman, through the excess of her exceptional wisdom, is made a fool when she crosses the line we all must walk.
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