apollinaire-beauty

This monster called beauty is not eternal. We know that our breath had no beginning and will never stop, but we can, above all, conceive of the world’s creation and its end.

Thought:

“Bring me my rose-buds, drawer, come;
So while I thus sit crown’d,
I’ll drink the aged Cecubum,
Until the roof turn round.”

Robert Herrick | “A Frolic”

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