“the bitterness of an interrupted life is nothing compared to the bitterness of an interrupted work: the probability of a continuation of the first beyond the grave seems infinite by comparison with the hopeless incompleteness of the second”
Nabokov, from the Boston Review, describing how I feel about waking from a good sleep. My best, most interruptible work is sleep.
Notes. Permalink. Thu, Dec 17th 2009, 4:31 PM (∞).
