"I am conscious... of how in reception the parchment has been penetrated, of grease stains, thumb marks, erasures, drops of sweat, places where images have been kissed away by devout lips, holes of various animal eating places."
posted by Ivy and John at
11:24 am
I need to prove to myself and to this humanity whose transient appearances I sketch that we are reborn, that we do not die. I need to do this because I feel myself dying... I want, over and above the chain of these mobiles lives, these instants we call men... I want to weave a fabric of ideas by which they perpetuated themselves, gave the lie to death, mocked nature.
-Jules Michelet, Journal Extracts
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