The Hippo Place
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita ...

I honestly dont know the answer, Your Grace. For Raphael, the creating of a work of art is a bright spring day in the Campagna; for me, it is a transmontana howling down the valley from the mountaintops. I work from early morning to dark, then by candlelight or oil lamp. Art for me is a torment, griveous when it goes bad, ecstatic when it goes well; but always it possesses me. When I have finished with a day of work I am a husk. Everything that was inside of me is now inside the marble or the fresco. That is why I have nothing to give elsewhere.

-The Agony and the Ecstasy, Irving Stone

He knows about Saudade, a Portuguese condition that resists translation, composed of an unspecified yearning; a sense of displacement and solitariness, a longing for the familiar, with a knowledge of the immensity of distance and the fragility of human bonds. It is an ecstacy of nostalgia, an echo of waves beating on a distant shore. He knows what it is but he can never share it.

-Distant Music, Lee Langley

Tomorrow I shall be happy...Happiness has no tomorrow; it has no yesterday either...It does not remember the past; it does not think of the future; it has the present, and that too, not a day, but an instance.

-Assya, Ivan Turgenev

Hippo
Haiku

berishith bera

Made with Mac OS

It is not what we do in life that kills us. It is what we do not do that kills us.

Nessum maggior dolore che ricordarsi del temp felice nella miseria

Dante had said that the greatest sorrow was remembering past happiness, but Dante was wrong on that formulation - dead wrong. There are no happiness like our sad, regretfull ones.

HippoBlog
- Osaka, September 2005