herrick-himself

Born I was to meet with age,
And to talk life’s pilgrimage,
Much, I know, of time is spent,
Tell I can’t what’s resident.
Howsoever, cares, adieu;
I’ll have nought to say to you.
But I’ll spend my coming hours
Drinking wine, and crown’d with flowers.

Thought:

“I have never thought about the audience… It seems to me that when I write something, I cast myself as a witness to what I’m doing. And I try to feel, to experience the emotions — both my own, in making the thing, and the spectator’s, in viewing what I’ve made.”

Robert Bresson

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