Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty unfamiliar and perilous – to poetry. But also, it gives birth to the opposite: to the perverse, the illicit, the absurd. ― Thomas Mann, Death in Venice and Other Tales. (Penguin Classics, May 1, 1999) Originally published 1911.
Now in midsummer come and all fools slaughtered And spring’s infuriations over and a long way To the first autumnal inhalations, young broods Are in the grass, the roses are heavy with a weight Of fragrance and the mind lays by its trouble. — Wallace Stevens, from “Credences of Summer,” The Collected Poems of Wallace… Continue reading Wallace Stevens
The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in. ― W.H. Auden