Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. ― T.S. Eliot, The Sacred Wood. (Faber & Faber, April 1, 1997) Originally published November 4th 1920.
The first cold nights of fall I avert my eyes from the visible breath of women passing, so shameful an intimacy. In landscape paintings, in addition to scenery there should be figures (jên) and other living things (wu). They should be drawn well and with style, thought not in too great detail. One must live… Continue reading Bin Ramke
I am too often continuously lonely, having nothing to articulate, defend, expose, or even occasionally justify. — Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959 (Ivan R. Dee Publisher, 2008; first published 1989)