Andy Weston

“Paint over Mickey Mouse 

Burn Where the Wild Things Are

Pulverise the lego 

Set fire to the Christmas tree star.

Seize all the teddies 

Bury every skipping rope

Paint the walls dark brown 

Abolish all hope.”
― Michael Rosen

“On the map the southern part of the Peloponnese looks like a misshapen tooth fresh torn from its gum with three peninsulas jutting southwards in jagged and carious roots. The central prong is formed by the Tayegtus mountains, which from their northern foothills in the heart of the Morea to their storm-beaten southern point, Cape Matapan, are roughly a hundred miles long. About half their length - seventy five miles on their western and forty five on their eastern flank and measuring fifty miles across - projects tapering into the sea. This is the Mani.
As the Taygetus range towers to eight thousand feet at the centre , subsiding to north and south in chasm after chasm, these distances as the crow flies can with equanimity be trebled and quadrupled and sometimes, when reckoning overland, multiplied tenfold.
Just as the inland Taygetus divides the Messenian from the Laconian plain, its continuation, the sea-washed Mani, divides the Aegean from the Ionian, and its wild cape, the ancient Taenarus and the entrance to Hades, is the southernmost point of Greece.
Nothing but the bleak Mediterranean, sinking below to enormous depths, lies between this spike of rock and the African sands and from this point the huge wall of the Taygetus, whose highest peaks bar the bare and waterless inferno of rock.

The Taygetus rolls in peak after peak to its southernmost tip, a huge pale grey bulk with nothing to interrupt its monotony.”
― Patrick Leigh Fermor, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese

“From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shape of things.
When I was fifty I had published a universe of drawings.
But all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with.
At seventy three I have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects.
When I am eighty you will see real progress.
At ninety I will have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself.
At one hundred, I will be a marvellous artist.
At one hundred and ten, everything I create - a dot, a line - will come alive.
I call on those who still may be alive to see if I keep my word.”
― Hokusai, The Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji

“Thou too art doomed..”
― Ernst Raupach, Non disturbare il sonno dei morti