“A little learning is a dangerous thing;
drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
and drinking largely sobers us again.”
This is a segment from Alexander Pope’s couplet An Essay on Criticism, from the 18th century. He wrote this when he was just 23!
When you learn a little, you become amazed by discovering what it is to see. As if the token of seeing is all you need. When you get lost at sea, surrounded by all hues of blue, you realize- that truly, you don’t know, and only see as far as the sea surrounds you. It humbles you because you experience how much bigger it is than you.
when you see it from afar, off the coast on a beach, the joy at shore makes you think that this- this is galore, this is magnificence, all-while still remaining in your little world.
Not until you drift through and- by God’s grace, great waves swallow you and leave your short-sight at bay; you rely on none but your heart to bare what’s manifest before you. because it’s too vast for your eyes to concur.