Schiele, Sunflowers, 1917
Sometimes I spend all day trying to count the leaves on a
single tree. To do this I have to climb branch by branch and write down the
numbers in a little book. So I suppose, from their point of view, it’s
reasonable that my friends say: what foolishness! She’s got her head in the
clouds again. But it’s not. Of course I have to give up, but by then I’m half
crazy with the wonder of it—the abundance of the leaves, the quietness of the
branches, the hopelessness of my effort.
Mary Oliver
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