Think of the most beautiful word you know
but do not speak it. Not yet. Only, hold it
in your mind a little while longer, hold it
until it becomes redolent, until it becomes
profuse with idolatries.
Writer and Artist
Think of the most beautiful word you know
but do not speak it. Not yet. Only, hold it
in your mind a little while longer, hold it
until it becomes redolent, until it becomes
profuse with idolatries.
I’m afraid I might be the Woodcock type.
I too need to poison myself to feel better.
I too cannot tell the difference between
growing colder and growing more earnest.
Better to slave away at your own redemption
than ask someone else to waitress it for you.
But maybe there is someone out there who
knows me well enough to make me slave.
I think I could love a person like that
without ever realizing I was falling in love.
R. Charboneau
A critic is a great thing to behold.
Are they not the priests of all art?
Can they not summon great meaning
from the daimon hibernating in its art?
The artist needs the critic as much as
he needs the daimon. It’s the critic who
chases on the heels of the artist,
always keeping up with his pace.
A good critic will be close behind,
but a great critic will have struck out
ahead of the artist, calling back to him,
urging him to hurry up already.
R. Charboneau
Artwork: I. A. Richards on the Alps (1930)