I tell people I try not to go insane. And they think it’s funny and then I go insane and they get mad.
“The censer sways
And glowing coals some art have
To free what frankincense before held fast
Till all the summer of the eastern farms
Doth dim the sense, and dream up through the light,
As memory, by new-born love corrected—
With savour such as only new love knoweth—
Through swift dim ways the hidden pasts recalleth.”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: Of Incense”