”I must be a mermaid, Rango.
I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.
But you, poor Rango, you’re from the mountain, water is not your element.
You won’t be happy.”
1 thought on “Days [ ) Fear of shallow living | Anaïs Nin, 1950”
That crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph Where the bales and the baskets lay No common intelligible sound But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea
That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea
A crazed girl / William Butler Yeats // 1865-1939
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