November 25, 2005

"I feel my blog evolving."

"I’m not sure how it’s evolving, and I’m interested to find out." Beautiful. As ever. No one else ever wrote two sentences that made tears run down my face.

In the blogosphere, there are artists. There are many different individuals. But among them, there are the artists.

8 comments:

Ruth Anne Adams said...

The artist in him still stirs the artist in you. That's love.

reader_iam said...

Ann, it's not directed at you, but nonetheless, I think you might like the response I posted over there.

Massoud said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Finn Kristiansen said...

Ann:
Was that tears of...?, or tears of...?

Reader:
I liked that quote on the other page.

Its seems so many have passion, without beliefs, and others (like me) have beliefs, with passion sometimes failing. Almost two sides of the same coin.

Is it better to drive fast and with vigor, music blasting and snack in hand, but without ultimate direction, or to sit with map and cell, global navigation device and directions, but without passion, foot slacking at the pedal, eyes struggling to stay open?

(My previous post I deleted... logged in under wrong name).

Ann Althouse said...

They were tears of recognition. You're reading a passage and suddenly there are a couple lines that completely resonate with they way you feel. I rarely cry, but for some reason, artistic things make me cry sometimes. The last time that happened to me was here.

Sometimes I just sneeze. Really! It's close to tearing up, just a tickling in the nose, and then I sneeze. When it happens at the movies, it's embarrassing! It doesn't seem like a profound reaction to art, but it is. The expression "nothing to sneeze at" doesn't mean the right thing for me.

Meade said...

I just knew there was a heart in there somewhere.

Sentimentality: not just something to sneeze at.

paulfrommpls said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Matthew said...

Finn:

You reminded me of Yeats.

" Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

The Second Coming. Thanks for that.