GENIUS
“How many poets occur in an age, who are either good prose writers, or as witty in the intercourse of daily life as Madame Cornuel? Buffon was dull company; Newton was never in love: Lord Byron loved nobody but himself; Rousseau was gloomy and half crazy; La Fontaine absent minded. Human energy, equally distributed, produces dolts, mediocrity in all; unequally bestowed it gives rise to those incongruities to whom the name of genius is given, and which, if we could only see them, would look like deformities.”
No comments:
Post a Comment