“ I like Mr. Dickens’ books much better than yours, Papa. Said one of Thackeray’s daughters. ”
You can learn more by going to the opera than you ever can by reading Emerson. Like that there are two sexes.
~ David Markson
Once, Turner had himself lashed to the mast of a ship for several hours, during a furious storm, so that he could later paint the storm. Obviously, it was not the storm itself that Turner intended to paint. What he intended to paint was a representation of the storm. One's language is frequently imprecise in that manner, I have discovered.
I still notice the burned house, mornings, when I walk along the beach. Well, obviously I do not notice the house. What I notice is what remains of the house. One is still prone to think of a house as a house, however, even if there is not remarkably much left of it.
Was it really some other person I was so anxious to discover...or was it only my own solitude that I could not abide?
