After a brief respite reading some William Carlos Williams, I am amazed at the simple elegance of written expression describing nothing. How the craft of writing can banish the monotony, and ease the chore of daily life. Careful control of perspective and diction can find the iron beauty, elemental to this earth. It guides the compasses of contented. Keats may claim "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know" but alas the equation is not so simple. Truth and beauty are guised by apparitions of expectation. Rust may veil such simple things, as constant jealousy, sloth, and self-denial corrode the very framework of happiness.
posted by Ben at
10:27 PM
