Quotes by Authors - Page 2705

There's a theme that appears in much of your work," I say to Maurice on my last visit to Connecticut, "and I can only hint at it because it's difficult to formulate or describe. It has something to do with the lines: 'As I went over the water/the water went over me' [from As I Went over the Water] or 'I'm in the milk and the milk's in me' [from Night Kitchen].""Obviously I have one theme, and it's even in the book I'm working on right now. It's not that I have such original ideas, just that I'm good at doing variations on the same idea over and over again. You can't imagine how relieved I was to find out that Henry James admitted he had only a couple of themes and that all of his books were based on them. That's all we need as artists - one power-driven fantasy or obsession, then to be clever enough to do variations… like a series of variations by Mozart. They're so good that you forget they're based on one theme. The same things draw me, the same images…""What is this one obsession?""I'm not about to tell you - not because it's a secret, but because I can't verbalize it.""There's a line by Bob Dylan in 'Just Like a Woman' which talks about being 'inside the rain.'""Inside the rain?""When it's raining outside," I explain, "I often feel inside myself, as if I were inside the rain… as if the rain were my self. That's the sense I get from Dylan's image and from your books as well.""It's strange you say that," Maurice answers, "because rain has become one of the potent images of my new book. It sort of scares me that you mentioned that line. Maybe that's what rain means. It's such an important ingredient in this new work, and I've never understood what it meant. There was a thing about me and rain when I was a child: if I could summon it up in one sentence, I'd be happy to. It's such connected tissue…
The Sad Boy Ay, his old mother was a glad one.And his poor old father was a mad one.The two begot this sad one.Alas for the single shoeThe Sad Boy pulled out of the rank green pond,Fishing for fairiesOn the prankish adviceOf two disagreeable lovers of small boys.Pity the unfortunate Sad BoyWith a single magic shoeAnd a pair of feetAnd an extra footWith no shoe for it.This was how the terrible hopping beganThat wore the Sad Boy thin and throughTo his only shoeAnd started the great fright in the provinces above BrentWhere the Sad Boy became half of himselfTo match the beautiful bootHe had dripped from the green pond.Wherever he went weeping and hoppingAnd stamping and sobbing,Pounding a whole earth into a half-heaven,Things split where he stoodInto the left side for the left magic,Into no side for the missing right boot.Mercy be to the Sad BoyScamping exasperatedAfter a wide bootTo double the magicOf a limping foot.Mercy to the melancholy folkOn the Sad Boy's right.It was not for want of wanderingHe lost the left boot tooAnd the knowledge of his left side,But because one awful SundayThis dear boy dislimbedWent back to the old pondTo fish up another shoeAnd was quickly (being too light for his line)Fished in.Gracious how he kicks nowAll the little ripples up!The quiet population of Brent has settled down,And the perfect surface of the famous pondIs slightly pocked, marked with three signs,For visitors come to fish for souvenirs,Where the Sad Boy went inAnd his glad mother and his mad father after him.