for your monday

as if the fullness of the soul
did not sometimes overflow in the
emptiest metaphors, since no one
can ever give the exact measure
of his needs, nor of his conceptions,
nor of his sorrows; and since
human speech is like a cracked
tin kettle, on which we hammer
out tunes to make bears dance
when we long to move the stars.

-gustave flaubert

(written on the wall at the maira kalman exhibit)