Posted by floatingbridge on March 29, 2011, at 15:51:42
In reply to Re: Therapygirl - How is T3?, posted by Dinah on March 27, 2011, at 9:19:43
(TG, please pardon....)
Dinah, I just read the last post of yours thinking you were a great writer :D, though not to your reckoning on par with Woolf or others, maybe; then, when those books are gone, where do they live?
The reader makes them live. Then they only belong to the reader. That is to say, Woolf wrote them, you loved them into yourself. Like your father and dog. Woolf was very much a writer of lights and shadows. Like what some of us experience in life and in loving. The imperfection.
Keats wrote something about his life being spelt in water....
How does one hold on to the emphemera of life, our own selves?
I think of thoughts, my writing, as webs of meaning, spun from spider silk.
This does make life challenging. All this letting go business....
> I only wish I were a great writer, or a great artist, so that they would "live" forever, as the Mona Lisa, or Mr. Darcy, or Scarlett O'Hara Butler live on forever.
>
> It's just that that doesn't preclude a small core of resentment that they left.
*a rose by any name
poster:floatingbridge
thread:981181
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20110324/msgs/981410.html