The soul contains, it seems,
A dark where there hardens and
Blows a madness that comes
From trying to understand
From 'Rage in the Dark, the Wind'
Sunday, December 16, 2012
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"If our auditory imaginations were sufficiently tuned to plumb and sound a vowel, to unite the most primitive and civilized associations, the word 'undine' would probably suffice as a poem in itself." Seamus Heaney
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