Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
Like anyone else who rides the bus to and from work with the same passengers day after day, and boards at a time of day when, empty, the whole space is at their disposal, the women who ride the 5:55 a.m. 3B to Minneapolis every morning sit spread across all the seats in the front of the bus talking to each other in full voice, and continue on this way even once the passengers who are not part of their informal group gradually fill up the unoccupied space.
'Ich bin unfähig, einen Menschen unter dem Aspekt der Erfüllung seiner Träume zu sehen' (I am incapable of seeing a man under the aspect of the fulfillment of his dreams).
[NZZ interview with Aleksandar Hemon and Juniot Díaz]
How can you tell that a blog has failed? Is that like getting cancelled?
(And see: Michael Daddino on blogs.)
The irritation provoked by leisure-time anthropologies whose poles are 'dive bar' and 'fancy restaurant'.
The anxiety which rises up out of nowhere from time to time that Bill Callahan might be just, oh shit, a folk singer.
As you watch the waves of people running over, wonder about the motivations of the first few people, compared to the next dozen, compared to the last few (who wouldn't even be able to see the guy and probably hadn't noticed him at all before). Amazing.
Νέος ἐφ' ἡμέρῃ ἥλιος.
'as your hours do, and dry away'