"A thing of beauty is a joy forever". Cliche, I know.
I wish Keats had written something about a thing of beauty causing a strange feeling, quite unparalleled in its nature. An inexplicable emotion bordering on pain over the lack of outlet to express that tumultuous wave of simultaneous joy and wistful longing, that might sadly never materialise and see the light of day.
Maybe he has, and I remain ignorant.
Expression - how unfortunate, that it is sometimes so severely handicapped and limited even in all its magnificent expanse.
I wish Keats had written something about a thing of beauty causing a strange feeling, quite unparalleled in its nature. An inexplicable emotion bordering on pain over the lack of outlet to express that tumultuous wave of simultaneous joy and wistful longing, that might sadly never materialise and see the light of day.
Maybe he has, and I remain ignorant.
Expression - how unfortunate, that it is sometimes so severely handicapped and limited even in all its magnificent expanse.
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