When something shines up on the sidewalk or down in the grass, it strikes me as if it were here what I might have been looking for all this time.
“I find what I thought when I look at what I have written. I know why I write: I have an indomitable urge, as if a voice dictated to me and then the text engenders itself. I should like to know the center… the voice. It may be God’s.”
Michel Butor
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