There's a lovely line in a poem I can't recall.
I'm sure I'm getting the animals wrong, and butchering the poetry, but in effect, it asks what carved the deer's grace, but the wolf's hunger?
Or something.
Jim Harrison puts it another way:
"How tall would I be
without my enemies
to measure me?"
I'm sure I'm getting the animals wrong, and butchering the poetry, but in effect, it asks what carved the deer's grace, but the wolf's hunger?
Or something.
Jim Harrison puts it another way:
"How tall would I be
without my enemies
to measure me?"