Art relies on the conversion of even flaws and defects into positive aesthetic values. It is a strange hymn to stupidity.
* * *
Collecting pebbles for a new mosaic of a world that I could love.
From In That Great River: A Notebook by Anna Kamienska, selected and translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh
the likes of him
“1845-1847 - Quoil’s Deserted House”:
He was here, the likes of him, for a season, standing light in his shoes like a faded gentleman, with gesture almost learned in drawing-rooms; wore clothes, hat, shoes, cut ditches, felled wood, did farm work for various people, kindled fires, worked enough, ate enough, drank too much. He was one of those unnamed, countless sects of philosophers who founded no school.
"The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (Houghton Mifflin & Co.,1906). Journal VIII edited by Bradford Torrey [The small and much mutilated journal which begins here appears to belong to the Walden period (1845-1847), but the entries are undated.]
He was here, the likes of him, for a season, standing light in his shoes like a faded gentleman, with gesture almost learned in drawing-rooms; wore clothes, hat, shoes, cut ditches, felled wood, did farm work for various people, kindled fires, worked enough, ate enough, drank too much. He was one of those unnamed, countless sects of philosophers who founded no school.
"The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (Houghton Mifflin & Co.,1906). Journal VIII edited by Bradford Torrey [The small and much mutilated journal which begins here appears to belong to the Walden period (1845-1847), but the entries are undated.]
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