The world is brimming with plaster replicas, and the point is to smash them to bits, to create an upheaval so acute it cannot be anticipated or resisted.
“A bee upon a briar-rose hung And wild with pleasure suck’d and kiss’d; A flesh-fly near, with snout in dung, Sneer’d, ‘What a Transcendentalist!’”
Coventry Patmore | “The Flesh-Fly and the Bee”
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