From this the poem springs; that we live in a place
That is not our own and, much more, not ourselves
And hard it is in spite of blazoned days.
--Wallace Stevens, 'Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction.'
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When we see the beauty of the snow, when we see the beauty of the full moon, when we see the beauty of the cherries in bloom, when in short we brush against and are awakened by the beauty of the four seasons, it is then that we think most of those close to us, and want them to share the pleasure. (Yasunari Kawabata)
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2011
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August
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- closing the parenthesis
- departures (11)
- last things
- it is the best of times, it is the worst of times (3)
- Fuses, again
- the future
- departures (10)
- through queer eyes
- first intimation
- departures (9)
- it is the best of times, it is the worst of times (2)
- I want, if older, still to know
- it is the best of times, it is the worst of times (1)
- a principle of kindness
- lest we forget
- the house
- 'the loneliness of the long-distance foreigner'...
- writing matters (4)
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August
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