( via / via )

"I detected the beginnings of a tendency to fetishise a work’s creator rather than simply appreciate the work itself, as if artists and writers were themselves part of the costumed entertainment." (via @greatdismal)

"A Cento from Pale Fire"

No furtive light came from their involute
Snails leave on flagstones; this good ink, this rhyme
The crowding gulls insufferably loud,

But always present, ran through me. One day,
Part of your shadow near the shagbark tree.
And then there was a kind of travelog:

Spied on it yet. Now I shall cry out as
Who's climbed the Matterhorn. The other piece
A hint of angels, and a glint of stained

(2004)

Some Favourite Canadian Books. (via @everysongiveeve)

"The first bomb that fell on Brighton actually came through his roof while he was taking a cold bath, and although it did not explode, he never recovered from the shock." --Colin Wilson, intro to The Violet Apple by David Lindsay

"We used to pick our words so we can move you."