comme on a un joli cheval

Memory should not be called knowledge—Many have original Minds who do not think it—they are led away by Custom—Now it appears to me that almost any Man may like the Spider spin from his own inwards his own airy Citadel—the points of leaves and twigs on which the Spider begins her work are few and she fills the Air with a beautiful circuiting: man should be content with as few points to tip with the fine Webb of his Soul and weave a tapestry empyrean—full of Symbols for his spiritual eye, of softness for his spiritual touch, of space for his wandering of distinctness for his Luxury—But the Minds of Mortals are so different and bent on such diverse Journeys that it may at first appear impossible for any common taste and fellowship to exist between two or three under these suppositions—It is however quite the contrary—Minds would leave each other in contrary directions, traverse each other in Numberless points, and [at] last greet each other at the Journeys end—


s'ha d'abraçar més


Aquest és lo Richard, the horse. És tovet i es deixa abraçar. Té les potes llargues i pèls.


se m'han trencat les ulleres! i me n'he hagut de fer unes de noves.
les vaig trepitjar sense voler només aixecar-me del llit.


la hormiga atómica



with one foot

But the patience and intelligence required to fathom someone else went far beyond the capacities of my anxious, infatuated mind.
Alain de Botton

WATERBAN - Pernice Brothers

There's a mark on me
Love song burning up in effigy
Two roads diverging in a lovely dream that only two can tear It's hard to understand
The cruel, cruel summer of a water ban
A dead grass cradle and a water can
To hold our prayer for rain

Be the same
Have we severed every courtesy we've made?

There's a mark on me
Scorched earth lovers, is that all we'll be?
Road diverging in a living dream of hope and love and time

Be the same
Though we severed every courtesy we've made
Be the same
Though we severed every courtesy we've made

Now we severed every courtesy we've made
Have we severed every courtesy we've made?


mesura, mesura.

una sardina atrapada

en un llibre! en un mar de paraules!

great books



A POOR RELATION- is the most irrelevant thing in nature,- a piece of impertinent correspondency,- an odious approximation,- a haunting conscience,- a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noon-tide of our prosperity,- an unwelcome remembrancer,- a perpetually recurring mortification,- a drain on your purse, a more intolerable dun upon your pride,- a drawback upon success,- a rebuke to your rising,- a stain in your blood,- a blot on your 'scutcheon,- a rent in your garment,- a death's-head at your banquet,- Agathocles' pot,- a Mordecai in your gate, a Lazarus at your door,- a lion in your path,- a frog in your chamber,- a fly in your ointment,- a mote in your eye,- a triumph to your enemy, an apology to your friends,- the one thing not needful,- the hail in harvest,- the ounce of sour in a pound of sweet.

Charles Lamb (Elia)