Ideas are clean. They soar in the serene supernal. I can take them out and look at them, they fit in books, they lead me down that narrow way. And in the morning they are there. Ideas are straight--
But the world is round, and a messy mortal is my friend.
Come walk with me in the mud.............
by Hugh Prather in Notes to Myself 1970
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment