prior-anacreon-ii

January 29, 2025

Bid the warbling Nine retire:
Venus, string thy servant’s lyre:
Love shall be my endless theme:
Pleasure shall triumph over fame:
And when these maxims I decline,
Apollo, may thy fate be mine:
May I grasp at empty praise;
And the lose the nymph, to gain the bays.

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Thought:

“But nothing is lasting in this world. Even joy begins to fade after only one minute. Two minutes later, and it is weaker still, until finally it is swallowed up in our everyday, prosaic state of mind, just as a ripple made by a pebble gradually merges with the smooth surface of the water.”

Nikolai Gogol | “The Nose”

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