The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private, distant, passionate, turbulent truth.
The need to go astray, to be destroyed, is an extremely private, distant, passionate, turbulent truth.
“Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
Wearing out life’s evening gray;
Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
Where is bliss, and which the way?
Thus I spake; and speaking sigh’d;
Scarce repress’d the starting tear;—
When the smiling sage reply’d—
Come, my lad, and drink some beer.”
Samuel Johnson | “Lines on Thomas Warton’s Poems”