"What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon", Annie Dillard asks? What would you make if you knew you were running out of time? If you were making it for someone whose days were counting down too? What would you, could you say, that would be neither trivial or indulgent? Something honest and meaningful and utterly bullshit-less. Something that would not be wasteful of the moments we have left.
This piece is very thoughtful. That Dillard quote really made me think.
I love the bit about terminal patients, you create the image well - showing that we al have that temporary lifetime, only have so much we can put out - is it wise to choose our words carefully or should we flood the world with our thoughts and feelings? Should we concentrate on quality over quantity? Does it even matter once we are gone?
I like the Vonnegut quote, I like your sentiment on choosing your words as if they were your last - make them count they say - we look back to John Green in Looking for Alaska where the protagonist, Miles, is obsessed with famous last words. I recall reading it for the first time and realising that they are indeed important… I prefer the wonderment of the likes of Francois Rabelais, “I go to seek a great perhaps." the pondering of what comes next, and Breecher’s “Now comes the mystery." To the pitiful, like the words of Poe, “Lord help my poor soul." A reflection of things to come, a hope that something lies beyond - sorry, went a little off kilter here.
A stunning ending to this piece too, a complimentary list of the magic of what we are, each of us our own poem with our own structure, our own form.
We are all going to die soon. That is why every word is important.
Aptly put!
This piece is very thoughtful. That Dillard quote really made me think.
I love the bit about terminal patients, you create the image well - showing that we al have that temporary lifetime, only have so much we can put out - is it wise to choose our words carefully or should we flood the world with our thoughts and feelings? Should we concentrate on quality over quantity? Does it even matter once we are gone?
I like the Vonnegut quote, I like your sentiment on choosing your words as if they were your last - make them count they say - we look back to John Green in Looking for Alaska where the protagonist, Miles, is obsessed with famous last words. I recall reading it for the first time and realising that they are indeed important… I prefer the wonderment of the likes of Francois Rabelais, “I go to seek a great perhaps." the pondering of what comes next, and Breecher’s “Now comes the mystery." To the pitiful, like the words of Poe, “Lord help my poor soul." A reflection of things to come, a hope that something lies beyond - sorry, went a little off kilter here.
A stunning ending to this piece too, a complimentary list of the magic of what we are, each of us our own poem with our own structure, our own form.
"a great perhaps" - I love that!