The reason for my silence of the past few days is that from time to time the sheer triviality and empty-headedness of people, their bovine indifference to all that really matters, is more than I can bear and I lose patience. Yes, I mean you lot out there. But a fine Irish poet has put it far better than I can:
Louis MacNeice - Snow
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes -
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands -
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
Oh, the picture: you do like to see pictures on the blog. here, then, is the writer of the above: