Sevi’s Reviews > Art and Lies: A Piece for Three Voices and a Bawd > Status Update

‘Di, cor mio, quanto t’amai’ - Say, my heart, how much I loved you

Touch me: Your hand the envoy of your heart.

All art belongs to the same period. Catch it by accent and not by chronology. Ask, ‘where does the emphasis fall?’ not the antiquarianism of where and when. Art is not archaeology. How will I know it? By its rapture. How will I know it? By its fidelity to itself. How will I know it? By its form.

"The best lack all conviction … and the worst?" - W. B. Yeats, "The Second Coming":

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Having killed part of me, I fear it less than those who do their murdering with unconscious hands, the daily suicide that precedes all other crimes. Love of money. Fear of death. Twin engines of the human race. Foolish then to search for wings? Inhuman even? But I dream of flight, not to be as the angels are, but to rise above the smallness of it all. The smallness that I am.

There’s no such thing as autobiography, there’s only art and lies.

Each man and woman goes to their particular scaffold, kneels, and is killed day after day. Each collects their severed head and catches the train home. Some say that they enjoy their work.

tertium non datum - no third option

Casti connubi? - Of chaste marriage?

Consensus facit matrimonium et non concubitus. - Consent makes a marriage, not sexual intercourse.

copula - link, bond, connection

Love me Sophia, in my foolishness, love my words and not my mortal remains. Be tidal to me in the constancy of change. Break over me where I feel most safe, be a shore to me, when I fear I am wave in the water, endlessly slipping away. Lift me up like a shell from the beach, now empty, now full. Lift me up and there are still songs.