the sky here's very strange. I often have the sensation when I look at it that it's a solid thing up there, protecting us from what's behind . . . [from] nothing, I suppose. Just darkness. Absolute night.
Paul BowlesAbout author
- Author's profession: Composer
- Nationality: american
- Born: December 30, 1910
- Died: November 18, 1999
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Beloved, we are always in the wrong, Handling so clumsily our stupid lives, Suffering too little or too long, Too careful even in our selfish loves: The decorative manias we obey. Die in grimaces round us every day, Yet through their tohu-bohu comes a voice. Which utters an absurd command - Rejoice.
W. H. Auden