It isn’t what a picture is of, it is what it is about.
The wisdom of John Szarkowski
| Pupil: | Does the wind move or does the grass move? |
| Master: | Your mind moves. |
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
Dylan Thomas, Love in the Asylum
![[Eta Carinae and the Homunculus Emission Nebula]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kyqu1gsT6K1qzyx6eo1_400.jpg)
Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.
Henry Miller, Sexus
