"... the truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars."
Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert.
I found this quite pertinent, having a particularly useless kettle to tap myself... I do however like the sound of crude rhythms for dancing bears, possibly more than the idea of expressing the exact measure of my needs, thoughts and sorrows... And therein lies the problem, perhaps.
2 comments:
we have a new kettle it is white and not silver like the last one. It also rings out with a crude whistle that was not as breathy as the last. Often i am breathy in my expressions.
And I must borrow every changing shape
To find expression ... dance dance
Like a dancing bear,
Cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape.
Let us take the air, in a tobacco trance.
- T.S. Eliot
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