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Don Quixote

Don Quixote (2024)  Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi  "To think that the things of this life must always remain fixed in one point is to think in vain; in fact it seems that life goes in circles, I mean, come and go: spring follows summer, summer follows autumn, autumn follows winter, winter springs, and so time returns to revolve uninterruptedly; only human life runs to its end faster than the wind, without waiting to be renewed, if not in the other which has not boundaries that limit it." Miguel de Cervantes - Don Quixote of La Mancha inks , watercolor, on paper 200 g/m https://www.artfinder.com/products/don-quixote-afe99/

Limiti

“Io non ho limiti” disse Icaro mentre volava.
“I miei limiti sono state le ali” disse, poi, mentre precipitava in mare.
“Noi non abbiamo limiti “dissero le ali. “Eccetto che siamo penne e cera. “
“Noi non abbiamo limiti” dissero le penne. “Eccetto che anche una oca non può arrivare oltre 11.000 metri.”
“Io non ho limiti” disse la cera “ Eccetto che fondo a 45 gradi . “
“Io non ho limiti” disse il mare, “Eccetto che mi chiamo Egeo, e quindi occupo circa 214.000 chilometri quadrati”
Nessuno aveva limiti che fossero per ognuno un impedimento.
Abbinandosi, i non limiti di ognuno diventarono un limite insormontabile per l’altro.
- Massimo Cavezzali

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Don Quixote

Don Quixote (2024)  Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi  "To think that the things of this life must always remain fixed in one point is to think in vain; in fact it seems that life goes in circles, I mean, come and go: spring follows summer, summer follows autumn, autumn follows winter, winter springs, and so time returns to revolve uninterruptedly; only human life runs to its end faster than the wind, without waiting to be renewed, if not in the other which has not boundaries that limit it." Miguel de Cervantes - Don Quixote of La Mancha inks , watercolor, on paper 200 g/m https://www.artfinder.com/products/don-quixote-afe99/

Autumn Song

  Autumn Song (2023) Ink drawing by  Maurizio Puglisi   “ Autumn Song” by Paul Verlaine When a sighing begins In the violins Of the autumn -song, My heart is drowned In the slow sound Languorous and long Pale as with pain, Breath fails me when The hours toll deep. My thoughts recover The days that are over, And I weep. And I go Where the winds know, Broken and brief, To and fro, As the winds blow A dead leaf . “Chanson d’automne” by Paul Verlaine, from Poèmes saturniens (1866) 

Phoenix rising

Phoenix rising watercolor and ink Maurizio Puglisi 2017 private collection USA