A slow conversation on Sunday. May Starton about empty days. (l)

It is a slow Sunday and somehow it is hard to let it be slow. I imagine then this conversation happening between times, places and books:

“I always forget how important the empty days are, how important it may be sometimes not to expect to produce anything, even a few lines in a journal. A day when one has not pushed oneself to the limit seems a damaged, damaging day, a sinful day. Not so! The most valuable thing one can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room.”
May Sarton