The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.
But he sleeps on the top of his mast with his eyes closed tight. The gull inquired into his dream, which was, "I must not fall. The spangled sea below wants me to fall. It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all.
Heaven is not like flying or swimming, but has something to do with blackness and a strong glare.
Hoping to live days of greater happiness, I forget that days of less happiness are passing by.
All the untidyactivity continues, awful but cheerful.
I am overcome by my own amazing sloth...Can you please forgive me and believe that it is really because I want to do something well that I don't do it at all?
Why shouldn't we, so generally addicted to the gigantic, at last have some small works of art, some short poems, short pieces of music [...], some intimate, low-voiced, and delicate things in our mostly huge and roaring, glaring world?
What one seems to want in art, in experiencing it, is the same thing that is necessary for its creation, a self-forgetful, perfectly useless concentration.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
All my life I have lived and behaved very much like the sandpiper - just running down the edges of different countries and continents, 'looking for something'.
Last Update: 26 October 2021
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