The mere knowledge that such a work could be created and still exists in the world makes me twice the person I was.
Goethe, when viewing the Medusa Rondanini (above).
|Robert Capa, photographer, Normandy, France|
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields,
See how these names are fêted by the waving grass
And by the streamers of white cloud
And whispers of wind in the listening sky.
The names of those who in their lives fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire’s centre.
Born of the sun, they travelled a short while toward the sun
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.
Stephen Spender, from The Truly Great