“I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness–in a landscape selected at random–is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern–to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.”
— Vladimir Nabokov, in Speak, Memory
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thanks for all of the kind comments and feedback! I was honored to have been Freshly Pressed yesterday!
And now, we’re off for another weekend jaunt home, to celebrate at a wedding with Guion’s old friends. Have a peaceful weekend, everyone.