[b]Philip Larkin
I have a sense of melancholy isolation, life rapidly vanishing, all the usual things. It’s very strange how often strong feelings don’t seem to carry any message of action.[/b]
You know, if you’re lucky.
I’m terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I ‘do’ anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on 'time’s - it doesn’t of course. It merely adds the torment of having done nothing, when the time comes when it really doesn’t matter if you’ve done anything or not.
Let’s be charitable and call it a mood.
Since the majority of me
Rejects the majority of you,
Debating ends forthwith, and we
Divide.
In other words, fuck you.
Deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth.
And that’s right around the corner from desperation.
But don’t get me started.
Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.
And then every three years after. Excluding Antarctica of course. Well, for most of them.
You have to distinguish between things that seemed odd when they were new but are now quite familiar, such as Ibsen and Wagner, and things that seemed crazy when they were new and seem crazy now, like ‘Finnegans Wake’ and Picasso.
Let’s continue in the same vein. Or, sure, go even farther.