Strange to know nothing, never to be sure
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I feel,
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.

Strange to be ignorant of the way things work:
Their skill at finding what they need,
Their sense of shape, and punctual spread of seed,
And willingness to change;
Yes, it is strange,

Even to wear such knowledge – for our flesh
Surrounds us with its own decisions –
And yet spend all our life on imprecisions,
That when we start to die
Have no idea why.

Philip Larkin

[x]#397 fan zondag 8 februari 2004 @ 22:28:18

besibbe op eamelje.net [de nijste 10, maksimaal]:

  • Poems  Philip Larkin10/2016
  • Quote of the Day | 060106/2015
  • Required Writing  Philip Larkin12/2014
  • Quote of the Day | 082008/2011
  • Quote of the Day | 051005/2011
  • Further Requirements  Philip Larkin09/2010
  • Het oog van de dichter08/2010
  • Wel in huis, dikwijls geprobeerd, nooit uitgekregen05/2009
  • Referred Back05/2009
  • Best Society04/2008

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    ien réaksje

    cockie  op 9 februari 2004 @ 11:46:40


    (niet ter zake: moet even lachen om close/slut hieronder
    en dan nu: siz it riz! :-) )