'Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers ...' I have loved this line from a Tennyson poem ever since I first encountered it, scribbled in pencil at the edge of an archived (never exhibited) sketch by my all-time favourite artist Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh. The poem itself is a quirky sort of epic: a young man stands at the sea's edge and laments his broken heart, complaining (over many, many stanzas!) about a woman who has chosen a richer husband-to-be. At this point in proceedings, however, I feel we can really hear Tennyson's own voice as his protagonist contemplates the ocean: 'Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, And I linger on the shore. And the individual withers, And the world is more