I’ve long regarded myself as an intensely hungry person, though not in the physical sense. I don’t care inordinately about my dinner, save that it is healthy; yet, I’ve always experienced the world itself—the concept of it, the vast beauty and mystery of it, as something I desperately long to bring nearer in order to incorporate it into my(S)elf. I experience this longing as hunger to be spiritually and emotionally intimate with the world by “consuming” it—by “feeding upon infinity,” as William Wordsworth might say, as if my mind and …