The mystery in how little we know of other people is no greater than the mystery of how much, Laurel thought.
Eudora WeltyRead
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The mystery in how little we know of other people is no greater than the mystery of how much, Laurel thought.
In the dust of defeat as well as the laurels of victory there is a glory to be found if one has done his best.
Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them). Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.
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