Wanderlust

It was wanderlust, pure and simple, yet it had come upon him like a seizure and grown into a passion—no, more, an hallucination. His desire sprouted eyes, his imagination, as yet unstilled from its morning labors, conjured forth the earth’s manifold wonders and horrors in his attempt to visualize them: he saw.

— Thomas Mann, Death in Venice,
trans. Michael Henry Heim with an introduction by Michael Cunningham [HarperCollins].
via toadustyshelfrweaspire

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