This morning, driving home from the dentist, I thought back on what the morning had already yielded. Clean teeth, thanks to Loretta. Time enough to read the Proust chapter in Jonah Lehrer's
Proust was a Neuroscientist (recommended to me by Haverford College's Tom Devaney). Continuing email conversations—about John Gardner, about the after life of projects, about NYC graffiti, about children—with new and trusted literary friends. An invitation (thanks to Elizabeth Mosier and the generous folks of Bryn Mawr College) to spend some time in the company of the master writer, Rick Moody. A peace-inducing note from my friend, the actor/activist/writer James Lecesne, about the why of writing, the real why. An invitation to dinner with a beloved client. A note reinforcing this afternoon's plans, where I will spend time down on the Penn campus with the editor of a favorite magazine, before going off to celebrate another client's grand achievement, before coming home, late, to a dinner with my husband.
And then these words, sent along by my poet friend, Joseph. Subject line:
Beautiful Quote. Quote:
“The great interests of man: air
and light, the joy of having a body,
the voluptuousness of looking."
-Mario Rossi
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