The texts we write are not visible until they are written. Like a creature coaxed from out a deep wood, the text reveals itself little by little.
The texts we write are not visible until they are written. Like a creature coaxed from out a deep wood, the text reveals itself little by little.
Quote text
“Let ’em censure: what care I?
The herd of critic I defy.
Let the wretches know, I write
Regardless of their grace, or spite.
No, no: the fair, the gay, the young
Govern the numbers of my song.
All that they approve is sweet:
And all is sense, that they repeat.”
Matthew Prior | “In Imitation of Anacreon”