I don’t know how or why the words combined themselves late last night, rising from the fog that became one big ghost, or at least that’s how I thought about it at the time. And then I thought, “ephemeral perfection is good enough,” which is something I can more readily get a grasp on. Still, meaning slipped. The words seemed to nestle in paradox, nothing and all. So I went searching. As Cicero said, I shouldn’t be surprised to find the phrase all over the Web.
Page after page. It seems such a pity, the overuse.
The irony does not escape me.