December 2011
3 posts
1 tag
…and who cares if later on the pages come loose in the wind, for the wind is the reader of all such things, who cares if the earth turns far away from me like some blue orb, I know that from now on my happiness will stay right here, in the process of choosing one word and then another, and the space separating them, thereby stretching out the thread until the very last word, which I will...
“But,” I again broke in, “where the bodily presence is weak and speech contemptible, surely there cannot be error in making written language the medium of better utterance than faltering lips can achieve?”
Reason only answered, “At your peril you cherish that idea, or suffer its influence to animate any writing of yours!”
“But if I feel, may I never...
2 tags