Let us not meet in the flesh; rather, let us love what we imagine all the more. Read The Rambler, Numb. 14. Saturday, May 5, 1750. Those whom the appearance of virtue, or the evidence of genius, have tempted to a nearer knowledge of the writer in whose performances they may be found, have indeed had frequent reason to repent their curiosity; the bubble that sparkled before them has become […]
Lower than the lowest cloud — higher than the highest tree — Brighter than the brightest sun — darker than the deepest grave — What are these thoughts — but almost — not quite — all — or none — of me? What are these things — but imagined — distinguished — company? What are these wings — but the wind’s — divine — philosophy? [ 680 ]
Two impressions met in the wind; each asked where the other had been; caught in a glance, both said; and passed again. Impressions Year upon year, fall upon fall, the maple leaves on the path remind me of hands. And one must die to know what it is to be held that way — die to the branch, die to the stem, die to the light, die to the […]
Remember, thou child collector of impressions, thou art also the collected one. Stumble-Step The stumble-step of a tiny calf, born of an elderly mother — see how the herd gathers ’round. [ 491 ]
William Michaelian 