THAT is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees – Those dying generations – at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. [...]
Oblique Strategies
Do something boringBrian Eno and Peter Schmidt- Still today I regard myself as an amateur, and I hope that's what I will stay until the end of my life:
I'm forever a beginner who discovers the world again and again.
André Kertész Me, myself and I
Sound
Altre parole, altri luoghi
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