I Met God. 'what,' He Said, 'you

The End Of Poetry Is Not To Create A Physical Condition Which Shall Give Pleasure To The Mind... The End Of Poetry Is Not An After-effect, Not A Pleasurable Memory Of Itself, But An Immediate, Constant And Even Unpleasant Insistence Upon Itself.

Conversation Succeeds Conversation, Until There's Nothing Left To Talk About Except Truth, The Perennial Monologue, And No Talker To Dispute It But Itself.

A Religion Addresses The Longing In Us To Have That Said From Which We Can Go On To Speak Of Next And Next Things Rightly, In Their Immediate Time - The Telling Of What Came First And Before Done Forever.

We Wait, All, For A Story Of Us That Shall Reach To Where We Are. We Listen For Our Own Speaking; And We Hear Much That Seems Our Speaking, Yet Makes Us Strange To Ourselves.

We Live On The Circumference Of A Hollow Circle. We Draw The Circumference, Like Spiders, Out Of Ourselves: It Is All Criticism Of Criticism.