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| John Berryman |
(1964)
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| Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not Say So | ||||
| Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so. After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns, we ourselves flash and yearn, and moreover my mother told me as a boy (repeatingly) "Ever to confess you´re bored means you have no Inner Resources. " I conclude now I have no inner resources, because I am heavy bored. People bore me, literature bores me, especially great literature, Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes as bad as Achilles, who loves people and valiant art, which bores me. And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag and somehow a dog has taken itself & and its tail considerably away into mountains or sea or sky, leaving behind: me, wag. |
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