We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.Note for those stocking zombie-proof shelters against the inevitable brain-eating apocalypse: A shelf consisting solely of The Anatomy of Melancholy and The Book of Disquiet would suffice for a good long time.
How tragic not to believe in human perfectibility!
And how tragic to believe in it!
Friday, March 30, 2012
Two epigrams for a weekend of proofreading
In honor of the 300-plus pages of seasonal catalog proofreading that are keeping me from blogging (and piano playing, and bread baking, and and and), two thoughts from Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet: