Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it all, right away, every time. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water.
[Annie Dillard]

Which is, in English: “The eye, like a bizarre balloon, directs itself toward the infinite.” And no kidding, it is the actual title of this piece, by Odilon Redon. This was the shining gleaning from my reading in the book on symbolism this morning. I can’t tell whether he’s being hilarious on purpose or by accident, but I will cherish this forever.

L'oeuil, comme un ballon bizarre, se dirige vers l'infini