Graeme

“Who are you?” asked Shasta.

“Myself,” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself,” loud and clear and gay: and then the third time “Myself,” whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

“The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable.”
― Robert Henri

“But one of the worst results of being a slave and being forced to do things is that when there is no one to force you any more you find you have almost lost the power of forcing yourself.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

“The sky belched. The thunder of one more belch cracked the dark morning and the air became clogged with the twisting speed of the rain that beat the streets in a unified tempo of a thousand small drums. Skinny walked slowly, slowly in the gutter. All of him, all of his possessions stuck out. One more clap of thunder stuttered insanely and Skinny scoffed at the scattering people and the mad hunt for shelter. Some huddled in doorways and some huddled under awnings and some made reluctant purchases for the franchise of being legitimate fugitives from the prison of the rain. Skinny and his big wet head was a flawless model for a tragic cartoon as the people fled from the streets and he just wandered in the gutter where the rain spilled over him and sucked his body.”
― Alan Kapelner, Lonely Boy Blues