I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
I was not made for the great light that devours, a dim lamp was all I had been given, and patience without end, to shine it on the empty shadows.
a definition of poetry "imaginary gardens with real toads in them"
One of the lessons of history is that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever…
The function of the imagination is not to make strange things settled, so much as to make settled things strange.