not being sick

“There again,” said Syme irritably, “what is there poetical about being in revolt?  You might as well say that it is poetical to be sea-sick.  Being sick is a revolt.  Both being sick and being rebellious may be the wholesome thing on certain desperate occasions; but I’m hanged if I can see why they are poetical.  Revolt in the abstract is — revolting.  It’s mere vomiting …
“It is things going right,” he cried, “that is poetical! Our digestions, for instance, going sacredly and silently right, that is the foundation of all poetry.   Yes, the most poetical thing, more poetical than the flowers, more poetical than the stars — the most poetical thing in the world is not being sick.”  -G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday

There are some things which one does not readily believe upon first reading, but yesterday upon the couch, miserably nibbling at bland crackers and taking tiny sips of Sprite, I was in perfect harmony with the above sentiments.   Today, then, is a very poetical day.

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