It is on a day like this one,
a little later a little earlier
that you discover without surprise
that something is wrong
that you don’t know how to live
and you will never know
It is on a day like this one,
a little later a little earlier
that you discover without surprise
that something is wrong
that you don’t know how to live
and you will never know
“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”