Posted by Ursula on Friday, 25 July 2008
Montaigne said of his friend Boetie who died four years after they had met: “If you press me to say why I loved him I feel that it cannot be expressed except by replying: ‘Because it was him; because it was me’.
To me, the most beautiful line ever to describe friendship.
Montaigne was lucky in that he buried his friend. How Oscar Wilde suffered over Lord Alfred Douglas.
Always informative to speak to my father: Yesterday, learning about my heartache and my consequent roaming of graveyards, he listed – just off the drop of his hat – the best cemeteries of Europe to visit – including their most famous inhabitants. I admire brains like that – mine is like a sieve; albeit a clogged up one which lets very little through – as sieves go useless for its original purpose. My dear Professor, I can’t let you go after all.
U aka Eliza
Posted in Friend, Happiness, Literature, Philosophy, Vicissitudes | Tagged: Boetie, cemeteries, Eliza, Europe, friendship, graveyards, Lord Alfred Douglas, Montaigne, Oscar Wilde, Professor, sieve | 1 Comment »
