Wednesday, September 21, 2005

On Seeing the Elgin Marbles for the First Time

My spirit is too weak - mortality
        Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
        And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.
        Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep,
        That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
        Bring round the heart an indescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
        That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old Time - with a billowy main -
A sun - a shadow of a magnitude.

                                                        John Keats.


I’ve been feeling very off-balance this week: even more unfocussed than usual, generally malaised and isolated. Thinking about my script, thinking about my job, thinking about my life. Not getting anywhere.

Keats was younger than I am now when he died.

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