Хвилі

           Whileonestraightenstheforksopreciselyonthetable-cloth,athousandfacesmopandmow.Thereisnothingonecanfishupinaspoon;nothingonecancallanevent.Yetitisalivetooanddeep,thisstream.ImmersedinitIwouldstopbetweenonemouthfulandthenext,andlookintentlyatavase,perhapswithoneredflower,whileareasonstruckme,asuddenrevelation.OrIwouldsay,walkingalongtheStrand,"That’sthephraseIwant",assomebeautiful,fabulousphantombird,fishorcloudwithfieryedgesswamuptoencloseonceandforallsomenotionhauntingme,afterwhichonItrottedtakingstockwithreneweddelightoftiesandthingsinshop-windows.

           ’Thecrystal,theglobeoflifeasonecallsit,farfrombeinghardandcoldtothetouch,haswallsofthinnestair.IfIpressthemallwillburst.WhateversentenceIextractwholeandentirefromthiscauldronisonlyastringofsixlittlefishthatletthemselvesbecaughtwhileamillionothersleapandsizzle,makingthecauldronbubblelikeboilingsilver,andslipthroughmyfingers.Facesrecur,facesandfaces--theypresstheirbeautytothewallsofmybubble--Neville,Susan,Louis,Jinny,Rhodaandathousandothers.Howimpossibletoorderthemrightly;todetachoneseparately,ortogivetheeffectofthewhole--againlikemusic.Whatasymphonywithitsconcordanditsdiscord,anditstunesontopanditscomplicatedbassbeneath,thengrewup!Eachplayedhisowntune,fiddle,flute,trumpet,drumorwhatevertheinstrumentmightbe.WithNeville,"Let’sdiscussHamlet."WithLouis,science.WithJinny,love.