Quote #196

One of the limits of reality Presents itself in Oley when the hay, Baked through long days, is piled in mows. It is A land too ripe for enigmas, too serene.: Things stop in that direction and since they stop The direction stops and we accept what is As good. The utmost must be good and is:

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  3. At the earliest ending of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outside Seemed like a sound in his mind. He knew that he heard it, A bird's …
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  5. Our own time, and by this I mean the last two or three generations, including our own, can be summed up in a way that brings into unity an …
  6. Light the first light of evening, as in a room In which we rest and, for small reason, think The world imagined is the ultimate good.
  7. The paramount relation between poetry and painting today, between modern man and modern art, is simply this: that in an age in which disbel…
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