Waves of hands, hesitations at street corners, someone dropping a cigarette into the gutter-all are stories. But which is the true story? That I do not know. Hence I keep my phrases hung like clothes in a cupboard, waiting for some one to wear them. Thus waiting, thus speculating, making this note and then an· other I do not cling to life. I shall be brushed like a bee from a sunflower. My philosophy, always accumulating, welling up moment by moment, runs like quicksilver a dozen ways at once.

Summary

This quote suggests that every action, gesture, and moment in life holds a story, but determining the true narrative behind these instances is impossible. The speaker metaphorically hangs their phrases like clothes, waiting for someone to adopt them and give them meaning. They observe and speculate, continuously accumulating experiences and ideas, yet they do not attach themselves to life. Instead, they see themselves as transient, easily brushed away, with their philosophy constantly shifting and evolving in multiple directions simultaneously, much like quicksilver.

Topics