It is a fact, strange and universal, that each of us believes that everyone should think and feel as one, but nothing could be further from the truth.
C’est un fait étrange et universelle, que nous croyons que tout le monde devrait penser et se sentir comme un, mais rien ne serait être plus éloigné de la vérité.
Ihr sagt, “Jeder als Einer denken und fühlen sollte, aber nichts ist weiter von die Wahrheit.”
The act of translation proves the impossibility of becoming one with either the author or the reader. Still, we try. The search for truth draws us near, but never quite there.
Jamais la vérité, mais près.
Faith should not conquer, it should console.
There are some who say
And some who do
And some who say and do,
In French it doesn’t quite work.
qui le dis
et les gens qui le font
et qui le disent et font,
Regarde! Jusqu’où cette petite bougie jette sa lumière, brille une bonne action dans un monde méchant.
Marchand de Venise, Acte 5, Scène 1, William Shakespeare
Rich, beautiful, gracious, and smart, if a suitor had to choose only one quality in his fair Portia, which would it be?
The Merchant of Venice is a play in which the women clearly outsmart the men. In considering what love is, one is reminded of Elizabeth Barret Browning, How do I love thee, let me count the ways…
Love should not come down to a choice, but if it did what would your choice be?
C’est l’amour un choix?
The woods are not quiet. It seems still and quiet because the sounds are different from the noise of the city. Listen and you will hear the rambling creek as it chatters with the stones, the birds up above darting in and out the branches, the squirrels in the leaves, all talking about the strange being:
Who shouldn’t be where he is but is.
There is no reason
My car to walk
Down a shady path
Do I need a reason to walk?
Underneath the trees
And talk to the babbling brook
It could be spring or fall
It matters not at all
But to get away
And look and listen
For nothing at all
For birds that sing
For squirrels that scamper
And announce the coming
Of a strange being
Who doesn’t belong
Out in the woods
Look at the beauty
Of a path in the woods
Meandering left and right
Lit by the light of the sun
Through the towering trees
On a dusty old path of memories
Like my scatterbrained thoughts
That go nowhere
But straight to my heart
“Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don’t you think?
The Scarecrow from Oz”
In the Land of Oz, silence is the most misunderstood art of conversation, and loneliness the most steadfast companion.
Silence c’est le mot le plus mal compris, et la solitude le compagnon le plus ferme. Je trouve, Certaines personnes sans cerveaux parlent souvent beaucoup trop, tu ne penses pas ?
Dans la terre d’Oz on cherche la sagesse.
Oz is a mythical place where one goes to seek wisdom. I say “goes”, but I do not reply that one “finds” the answer. For that one must be willing to listen. More than that, one must know to whom and where to listen.