From Poetshouse today:
Is the flicker of an eye all that love
is made of? A tickle blink of
sweet and spice, just a hint
of lark?
Catherine Wing
Isn’t that a nice tidbit?
From Poetshouse today:
Is the flicker of an eye all that love
is made of? A tickle blink of
sweet and spice, just a hint
of lark?
Catherine Wing
Isn’t that a nice tidbit?
Art isn’t explanation. Art is what an artist does, not what an artist explains. (Or so it seems to me, which is why I have a problem with the kind of modern museum art that involves reading what the artist says about a work in order to find out why one should look at it or “how to experience” it.) From: No Time to Spare
