I collect sentences as I collected sticks and feathers when I was a boy, and then I forget them when night-time comes. How much of pain can be attributed to its original cause, and how much to the fear it will grow worse, and maybe not end? If I’m still alive at suppertime, I think I’ll set the table with the yellow dishes my parents often used when I was […]
There’s an art to losing your way: never lose it just to say you forgot to live, or give, today; and don’t confuse it, pray, with child’s play; let it be good music when you’re old and gray. . [ 1756 ]
It seems a shame to impose myself on a clean white page. It’s like being the first to leave tracks in newly fallen snow, or where someone has carefully raked a shaded path — unforgivable acts, though unavoidable, perhaps. And what of the garden space beside the driveway? If I’m still alive when the weather warms at last, shall I fill it again with seeds and plants, or let nature […]
Said the little statue,What is eternity, now that I have been clay in your hands? And the artist gently replied,What it has always been. But I have changed, and you are more than I am. . [ 1646 ]
Of all the arts, love and friendship are the most intimate, because each person creates the other, and the experience leaves both transformed. . [ 1572 ]
A clear, starry morning. Two large raccoonsand one small coyote — which makes me wonder:should I really be up at such an early hour? August 16, 2022 Canvas 1,278 August 16, 2022 . [ 1522 ]
William Michaelian 