“The black book”, Lawrence Durrell (serie “Is it possible to be a revolutionary and like flowers?”)
kamel mennour, Paris.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Facebook
Twitter
prints, books and things
About Me
Website
What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time.
--Virginia Woolf
--Virginia Woolf
Blog Archive
- September (1)
- July (10)
- June (21)
- May (22)
- April (23)
- March (25)
- February (31)
- January (19)
- December (16)
- November (35)
- October (44)
- September (29)
- August (13)
- July (43)
- June (55)
- May (55)
- April (43)
- March (57)
- February (48)
- January (56)
- December (50)
- November (55)
- October (55)
- September (44)
- August (26)
- July (54)
- June (73)
- May (48)
- April (49)
- March (45)
- February (46)
- January (49)
- December (50)
- November (49)
- October (44)
- September (46)
- August (30)
- July (40)
- June (38)
- May (41)
- April (43)
- March (43)
- February (33)
- January (40)
- December (39)
- November (32)
- October (30)
- September (40)
- August (32)
- July (46)
- June (59)
- May (73)
- April (89)
- March (75)
- February (7)
Follow this blog with bloglovin
No comments:
Post a Comment