|When Sappho is lost does it really matter if any of our work survives.
|I suppose a few of my books will remain unread on the library shelves
|until Armageddon.
Yes. I mean... there's one bit of me that says _nothing matters_ but that's
just my determination to keep things in proportion and there's another bit
of me that says _well I don't know how good it was any more than you do_
but it seems a bit peculiar to me anyway to give up all hope because work
that was lost before any of us or our forebears and five giraffes were born
is lost
never look a gift horse in the mouth
eat when you get the chance
love the one you're with
stuff like that
and if she turned up now - sorry I'm so late everyone, bet you thought I was
lost; that Mytilini-Eristos bus gets worse and worse - she'd still be lost
to me and most people I know because I/we wouldn't be able to understand a
word of it
maybe she was as good as the ancient writers say; but be cautious - I can't
help thinking Atlantis was a bit of a fib
at best for those of us not steeped in the particular - time / place -
version of Greek - and my name's Plato if it actually sounded the way _we_
think it sounded - there'd be some odd kind of romance of the past - is this
the face etc
I'd still be interested. I sat through Neruda and couldn't understand a word
of it but I'm still glad I went. But I worry that it was a bit like doing
the sights. I got something out of it. Quite a lot. But what I got wasn't
anything like the amount i got from hearing Bunting, say. Because, southron
that I am, I shared a bit of his language
There'll come a time when everything is lost. All is grass. Blah blah. I
have little time with versions of the myth of the fall. Mind the step.
Mind - the gap. Mined your head.
L
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