Sunday. Breakfast and lunch eaten; a magazine read; the apartment tidied, as a man alone does it, with deliberate delicacy. There is something exotic in his movement, and about the room, which is produced by the placing of ordinary things; and everywhere is evidence of a long and careful striving for homeyness as a spiritual ideal. Where eyes have met the lonely space of walls, pictures hang - but do not look at them: he seldom does. Squares and rectangles become companionable, and being so familiar, are scarcely seen, their purpose forgotten. So that when he desires space, with an intensity too large for the apartment, he never takes them down. The window is another rectangle, a picture of space.
"A Half-Spread Wing,"
Manuscripts: Vol. 13
, Article 8.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.butler.edu/manuscripts/vol13/iss3/8