life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. the part that appears above the ground lasts only a single summer. then it withers away—an ephemeral apparition. when we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. what we see is the blossom, which passes. the rhizome remains.
C.G. Jung
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