We live at ease, each in his own absurdity like fish in water, and are never aware but by accident of all the folly contained in the life of a reasonable person. We never think that what we think conceals from us what we are. I do hope, sir, that we are worth more than all our thought, and that our greatest merit before God will be in having tried to stand on something greater than our mind babbling to itself, however beautifully.
Paul Valery, Monsieur Teste
As per request, the summer book blog is back.
This journal exists for archive purposes only, now.
The way the word rote means memory gained through repetition and also the sound of waves breaking.
Nich, leaving. January 2005.