From Anecdotal Evidence this morning:
It takes a singular individual, one who is unfashionably non-aligned, to acknowledge his dependence on the work of others. .... Originality is a pernicious myth. Something truly original would be a horrifying blank, or chaos. We all come from somewhere.... Simon Leys writes in “The Experience of Literary Translation” (The Hall of Uselessness: Collected Essays, 2013):
“String together all the pages that you have copied out over the course of your readings and, without there being a single line by you, the ensemble may turn out to be the most accurate portrait of your mind and your heart. Such mosaics of quotations resemble pictorial ‘collages’: all the elements are borrowed, but together they form original pictures.”
I'm pretty sure I've never had an original thought.
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