An ‘I’ can never be a great man.
This known great one has weakness To friends is most remarkable for weakness His ill-temper at meals, his dislike of being contradicted, His only real pleasure fishing in ponds, His only real desire – forgetting. To advance from friends to the composite self Central ‘I’ is surrounded by ‘I eating’, ‘I loving’, ‘I angry’, ‘I excreting’, And the ‘great I’ planted in him Has nothing to do with all these, It can never claim its true place Resting in the forehead, and secure in his gaze. The ‘great I’ is an unfortunate intruder Quarrelling with ‘I tiring’ and ‘I sleeping’ And all those other ‘I’s who long for ‘We dying’.
Stephen Spender
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A giant chrome brushed aluminium skeleton of a T-Rex made by French sculptor and painter Philippe Pasqua is put on display in Paris, France. Photo: AFP/Getty Images.
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