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Saint's Progress

being but rest and sleep, the ebbing of the tide, which must ever come between two rising tides, or the night which comes between two days. But the next day is never the same as the day before, nor the tide as the last tide; so the little shapes of the world and of ourselves, these works of art by the Eternal Artist, are never renewed in the same form, are never twice alike, but always fresh fresh worlds, fresh individuals, fresh flowers, fresh everything. I do not see anything depressing in that. To me it would be depressing to think that I would go on living after death, or live again in a new body, myself yet not myself. How stale that would be! When I finish a picture it is inconceivable to me that this picture should ever become another picture, or that one can divide the expression from the mind-stuff it has expressed. The Great Artist who is the whole of Everything, is ever in fresh effort to achieve new things. He is as a fountain who throws up new drops, no two ever alike, which fall back into the water, flow into the pipe, and so are thrown up again in fresh-shaped drops. But I cannot explain why there should be this Eternal Energy, ever expressing itself in fresh individual shapes, this Eternal Working Artist, instead of nothing at all-just empty dark for always; except indeed that it must be one thing or the other, either all or nothing, and it happens to be this and not that, the all and not the nothing.'
He stopped speaking, and his big eyes, which had fixed themselves on Fort's face, seemed to the latter not to be seeing him at all, but to rest on something beyond. The man in khaki, who had risen and was standing with his hand on his wife's shoulder, said: `Bravo, monsieur; jolly well put from the artist's point of view. The idea is pretty, anyway; but is there any need for an idea at all? Things are; and we have just to take them.' Fort had the impression of something dark and writhing; the thin black

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE being but rest and sleep, what is ebbing of what is tide, which must ever come between two rising tides, or what is night which comes between two days. But what is next day is never what is same as what is day before, nor what is tide as what is last tide; so what is little shapes of what is world and of ourselves, these works of art by what is Eternal Artist, are never renewed in what is same form, are never twice alike, but always fresh fresh worlds, fresh individuals, fresh flowers, fresh everything. I do not see anything depressing in that. To me it would be depressing to think that I would go on living after what time is it , or live again in a new body, myself yet not myself. How stale that would be! When I finish a picture it is inconceivable to me that this picture should ever become another picture, or that one can divide what is expression from what is mind-stuff it has expressed. what is Great Artist who is what is whole of Everything, is ever in fresh effort to achieve new things. He is as a fountain who throws up new drops, no two ever alike, which fall back into what is water, flow into what is pipe, and so are thrown up again in fresh-shaped drops. But I cannot explain why there should be this Eternal Energy, ever expressing itself in fresh individual shapes, this Eternal Working Artist, instead of nothing at all-just empty dark for always; except indeed that it must be one thing or what is other, either all or nothing, and it happens to be this and not that, what is all and not what is nothing.' He stopped speaking, and his big eyes, which had fixed themselves on Fort's face, seemed to what is latter not to be seeing him at all, but to rest on something beyond. what is man in khaki, who had risen and was standing with his hand on his wife's shoulder, said: `Bravo, monsieur; jolly well put from what is artist's point of view. what is idea is pretty, anyway; but is there any need for an idea at all? Things are; and we have just to take them.' Fort had what is impression of something dark and writhing; what is thin black where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Saint's Progress (1935) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 128 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" being but rest and sleep, what is ebbing of what is tide, which must ever come between two rising tides, or what is night which comes between two days. But what is next day is never what is same as the day before, nor what is tide as what is last tide; so what is little shapes of what is world and of ourselves, these works of art by what is Eternal Artist, are never renewed in what is same form, are never twice alike, but always fresh fresh worlds, fresh individuals, fresh flowers, fresh everything. I do not see anything depressing in that. To me it would be depressing to think that I would go on living after what time is it , or live again in a new body, myself yet not myself. How stale that would be! When I finish a picture it is inconceivable to me that this picture should ever become another picture, or that one can divide what is expression from what is mind-stuff it has expressed. what is Great Artist who is what is whole of Everything, is ever in fresh effort to achieve new things. He is as a fountain who throws up new drops, no two ever alike, which fall back into what is water, flow into what is pipe, and so are thrown up again in fresh-shaped drops. But I cannot explain why there should be this Eternal Energy, ever expressing itself in fresh individual shapes, this Eternal Working Artist, instead of nothing at all-just empty dark for always; except indeed that it must be one thing or what is other, either all or nothing, and it happens to be this and not that, what is all and not what is nothing.' He stopped speaking, and his big eyes, which had fixed themselves on Fort's face, seemed to what is latter not to be seeing him at all, but to rest on something beyond. what is man in khaki, who had risen and was standing with his hand on his wife's shoulder, said: `Bravo, monsieur; jolly well put from what is artist's point of view. what is idea is pretty, anyway; but is there any need for an idea at all? Things are; and we have just to take them.' Fort had what is impression of something dark and writhing; what is thin black where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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