lovely scent of endless summer in the air. corn fields. clouds and no-clouds inbetween.
dublin was nice. love the accent. look left, look right, confusing. busy but some nice history. and smokefree breathing space loveliness. james joyce, eccles street. and everything.
and found that great phrase which so very much raises my own inner powers. but i'm still looking for the exact formulation, as the internet apparently keeps turning up different versions. this one looks closest to my own memory, and the author, whose first name was James, i believe, is to remain a mystery. woooooh. mystery! okay, i'm just too lazy to look it up properly. so anyway:
"The great are only great because we are on our knees: let us rise."