The painter... does not fit the paints to the world. He most certainly does not fit the world to himself. He fits himself to the paint. The self is the servant who bears the paintbox and its inherited contents.
The painter... does not fit the paints to the world. He most certainly does not fit the world to himself. He fits himself to the paint. The self is the servant who bears the paintbox and its inherited contents.
It could be that our faithlessness is a cowering cowardice born of our very smallness, a massive failure of imagination. . . . If we were to judge nature by common sense or likelihood, we wouldn't believe the world existed.
I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again.
I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too.
The writer studies literature, not the world. He is careful of what he reads, for that is what he will write.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories