Words the brush stroke, and
Art takes wing on the mind of imagination: Life screaming through its cracks. Next time you read, feel
The cuts, wonder at its joints,
Step back and breathe beauty’s image
hand–crafted before you, personally. I fear few feel its cuts, and fail to see an image Longing to dance with them, before them. This jigsaw is alive, always changing with life imparted by its author, throbbing and quivering with expectation as you turn the page. Words! “Is there anything so real as words?” — Iain Sutherland (The Ink Jester)
“Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?” — Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray.