The Cold Passion For Truth Hunts In

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful... ... The Wholeness Of Life And Things, The Divine Beauty Of The Universe. Love That, Not Man Apart From That, Or Else You Will Share Man's Pitiful Confusions, Or Drown In Despair When His Days Darken.

...science And Mathematics Run Parallel To Reality, They Symbolize It, They Squint At It, They Never Touch It: Consider What An Explosion Would Rock The Bones Of Men Into Little White Fragments And Unsky The World If Any Mind For A Moment Touch Truth.

I Hate My Verses, Every Line, Every Word. Oh Pale And Brittle Pencils Ever To Try One Grass-blade's Curve, Or The Throat Of One Bird That Clings To Twig, Ruffled Against White Sky. Oh Cracked And Twilight Mirrors Ever To Catch One Color, One Glinting Flash, Of The Splendor Of Things.

This Wild Swan Of A World Is No Hunter's Game.

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.