Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself. Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led.
Louis Kahan
Louis Kahan
There are poems
that are never written,
that simply move across
the mind
like skywriting
on a still day;
slowly the first word
drifts west,
the last letters dissolve
on the tongue,
and what is left
is the pure blue
of insight, without cloud
or comfort.
that are never written,
that simply move across
the mind
like skywriting
on a still day;
slowly the first word
drifts west,
the last letters dissolve
on the tongue,
and what is left
is the pure blue
of insight, without cloud
or comfort.
Léger, léger, très léger,
Un vent très léger vient passer,
Puis s’en va, toujours très léger.
Et moi, je ne sais ce que je pense
Et ne cherche pas à le savoir.
Fernando PESSOA
