Nationaal Archief, “Butcher in Amsterdam” (ca. 1988)
J.M. Bridges, “Left Ashore” (ca. 1935)
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
— The Great Gatsby
Finnish Museum of Photography, “Autoja ylittämässä salmea lossilla…” (1959)
I on my horse, and Love on me, doth try
—Sir Philip Sidney, “Astrophil and Stella 49”
cf. The Finnish Museum of Photography, “Osuustukkukaupan osasto Elintarvikemessuilla Messuhallissa.” (1950) (edited detail)
Toni Frissell, “A couple walking along the Seine River in Paris” (detail) (between 1940 and 1969)
Kenneth W. Williams, “What’s This?” (ca. 1938)
cf. Childe Hassam in Joseph Pennell, “Modern Illustration” (1895)
Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, “Playing baseball…” (ca. 1910)
Lejaren à Hiller, Fatima Cigarettes advertisement (ca. 1922)
…is it not Tennyson who has said: ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have lost at all?
—Samuel Butler, The Way of All Flesh
cf. Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division, “Landscape with dirt road and stone wall” (ca. 1900)
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass…
—Whitman, Song Of Myself
cf. Samuel H. Gottscho, New York World’s Fair, Entrance to Perisphere (1939)
J.B.B. Wellington, “The Toast” (ca. 1914)
Gatsby walked over and stood beside her.
“Daisy, that’s all over now,” he said earnestly. “It doesn’t matter any more. Just tell him the truth — that you never loved him — and it’s all wiped out forever.”
She looked at him blindly. “Why — how could I love him — possibly?”
“You never loved him.”
She hesitated. Her eyes fell on Jordan and me with a sort of appeal, as though she realized at last what she was doing — and as though she had never, all along, intended doing anything at all. But it was done now. It was too late.
“I never loved him,” she said, with perceptible reluctance…
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Lines on my head from that one thing she said…
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
—Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
I will choose a path that’s clear…
State Library of New South Wales, “A large erratic resting on gneiss Cape Denison area” (ca. 1911)
Lyddell Sawyer, “In The Twilight” (1888)
Popular Mechanics (1960)
Her situation, as such things were called, was on the grand scale; but it still was not that. It was her nature, once for all—a nature that reminded Mrs. Stringham of the term always used in the newspapers about the great new steamers, the inordinate number of “feet of water” they drew; so that if, in your little boat, you had chosen to hover and approach, you had but yourself to thank, when once motion was started, for the way the draught pulled you. Milly drew the feet of water, and odd though it might seem that a lonely girl, who was not robust and who hated sound and show, should stir the stream like a leviathan, her companion floated off with the sense of rocking violently at her side.
—Henry James, The Wings of the Dove
So I’d like to know where you got the notion
Said I’d like to know where you got the notion
To rock the boat,
Don’t rock the boat baby!
The spider’s touch, how exquisitely fine!
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line…
—Alexander Pope, Epistle I—Of the Nature and State of Man, with Respect to the Universe
Nicolas Vigier, pinball (detail) (2009)
But if your heart,
Your heart has been broken
And you don’t wear it on your sleeve
No one can tell,
Your hell goes unspoken
But there’s one thing you must believe…
Untitled photograph by R. E. Scaife (ca. 1919)