Poetry is the art of substantiating shadows and of lending existence to nothing.
But what is liberty without wisdom and without virtue? It is the greatest of all possible evils, for it is folly vice and madness without tuition or restraint.
The first and simplest emotion which we discover in the human mind is curiosity.
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For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.
The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.
We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future.