30 October 2023
But I cannot stand all day in the sun with my eyes on the ball; I cannot feel the flight of the ball through my body and think only of the ball. I shall be a clinger to the outsides of words all my life. Yet I could not live with him and suffer his stupidity. He will coarsen and snore. He will marry and there will be scenes of tenderness at breakfast. But now he is young. Not a thread, not a sheet of paper lies between him and the sun, between him and the rain, between him and the moon as he lies naked, tumbled, hot, on his bed. Now as they drive along the high road in their brake his face is mottled red and yellow. He will throw off his coat and stand with his legs apart, with his hands ready, watching the wicket. And he will pray, “Lord let us win”; he will think of one thing only, that they should win.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Craft /kraft/: noun
Careful attention to the sound and the balance of a sentence.
The matter of the final verb. People can pass in English. I know, as a manner of dying. But can flowers? The wilt, they fade; they can droop, wither and die. But can they pass? I don’t know. I don’t think so.
Kate Briggs, This Little Art