He ought to have a hundred hands to write,
for what can a single pen do here....
∆ Goethe: Rome, 1786
What goes too long unchanged destroys itself. The forest is forever because it dies and dies and so lives.
“Sometimes I wish I could photosynthesize so that just by being, just by shimmering at the meadow's edge or floating lazily on a pond, I could be doing the work of the world while standing silent in the sun.”
-Robin Wall Kimmerer
No two people can know the sea the same way.
∆ “Memory for Forgetfulness”, Mahmoud Darwish
“We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.”
Louise Glück, from “Nostos” in Meadowlands.
“I’ve never felt that it was anything other than real: discovery rather than invention, exploration rather than creation.”
octavia e. butler
People usually associate creativity with works of art, but what are works of art alongside the creative energy displayed by everyone a thousand times a day: seething unsatisfied desires, daydreams in search of a foothold in reality, feelings at once confused and luminously clear, ideas and gestures presaging nameless upheavals. All this energy, of course, is relegated to anonymity and deprived of adequate means of expression, imprisoned by survival and obliged to find outlets by sacrificing its qualitative richness and conforming to the spectacle's categories. Think of Cheval's palace, the Watts Towers, Fourier's inspired system, or the pictorial universe of Douanier Rousseau. Even more to the point, consider the incredible diversity of anyone's dreams - landscapes the brilliance of whose colors qualitatively surpass the finest canvases of a Van Gogh. Every individual is constantly building an ideal world within themselves, even as their external motions bend to the requirements of soulless routine.
∆ Raoul Vaneigem, The Revolution of Everyday Life (1967)