Thursday, January 20, 2011

Of friendship


In the friendship I speak of, our souls mingle and blend with each other so completely that they efface the seam that joined them, and cannot find it again. If you press me to tell why I loved him, I feel that this cannot be expressed, except by answering: Because it was he, because it was I.

Michel de Montaigne
The Complete Works
Page 169





“Canvas 156”
January 19, 2011

[click to enlarge]



Update:
In the Forum: the Dickens, you say.

11 comments:

Art by JFM said...

William it's as if this was written for you and your friend that has a place in your heart that death did not and could not ever remove.

The two of you on your canvas as one but yet individuals...

Woman in a Window said...

I think there is no truer truth.

And you, what a beautiful image. Somehow one man loving another so creates a bed in me, as for a cat and her kittens.

xo
erin

rahina q.h. said...

i'd like to add to JFM's comment: i truely thought it was written BY you... it sounded like your sensitivity.

William Michaelian said...

When one sings and the other is silent, both sing and both are silent. So too in life and death.

Thank you, Jan.

And thank you, Erin. I read what you posted this morning. It’s a beautiful response, and it could just as well have come before my entry here.

Rahina, I think we sometimes speak across centuries even when we’re of the same time and in the same room.

Old 333 said...

Lovely, William, both quote and drawing. I imagine a long hallway of your artwork and words, quietly leading to a door, behind which we will find you, in your portrait hat and wooden chair just as we find you here on the web. Good to know you're out here in the world (and in the web) with the rest of us, William - it makes a little calm spot in the storm. And thank you. What you share is of value, and is multiplied by the act.

William Michaelian said...

Other than my profound thanks, Peter, about all I can add to your lovely comment is this advice: pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

RUDHI - Chance said...

Wonderful word-pattern - thaught it was yours, but I guess, Montaigne would not mind if we like his inspiring self-expressions, honestly friend.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Rudhi. Our dead friend Montaigne has not complained yet; maybe he is used to our whispers by now.

Paul L. Martin said...

William, I found this part of Montaigne's biography very moving. I guess their friendship was intense but brief, and that his passing colored the remainder of Montaigne's life and work. I feel very lucky to understand the hole in Montaigne's heart. A friend, especially one who sees into your soul, is hard to find. We do not travel through this world all alone, and for that I am thankful, as well for your friendship.

William Michaelian said...

Paul, that you recognize the good fortune in such a painful loss is, I think, part of why we are friends. To the extent we try to avoid sorrow and pain, we are hardened to joy.

Also: I have you to thank for my present reading. If you had not written about Montaigne and linked to this book when you did, I wouldn’t be enjoying and learning from him now.

Paul L. Martin said...

Glad I could return the favor, William. I have learned much from your reading, especially of Proust.