“In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.”
The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet and the world was calm. The words were spoken as if there was no book, Except that the reader leaned above the page, Wanted to lean, wanted much to be The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom The summer night is like a perfection of thought. The house was quiet because it had to be. The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind: The access of perfection to the page. And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
More to explore
“In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all.”
“I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendos The blackbird whistling Or just after.”
“Let be be finale of seem. The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.”
“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”
Explore over 387,000 quotes from your favorite books and authors.
Browse All Quotes