joyce-strings

October 16, 2026
Strings in the earth and air
Make music sweet;
Strings by the river where
The willows meet.
There’s music along the river
For Love wanders there,
Pale flowers on his mantle,
Dark leaves on his hair.
All softly playing,
With head to the music bent,
And fingers straying
Upon an instrument.

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Thought:

“

To tell the truth I do not create anything — I clean up a sort of hidden medal, a statue buried in loam… Everything is already written outside of man in the sky.

“

Louis-Ferdinand Céline

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