It is the sinner's dust-tongued bell claps me to churches When, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulphur priest,... His beast heel cleft in a sandal....LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The catastrophe Buried in the stair carpet stayed there... And never corrupted anybody. And one day he grew up, and the horizon Stammered politely. The sky was like muslin. And still in the old house no one ever answered the bell.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
During a walk or in a book or in the middle of an embrace, suddenly I awake to a stark amazement at everything. The bare fact of e...xistence paralyzes me... To be alive is so incredible that all I can do is to lie still and merely breathe--like an infant on its back in a cot. It is impossible to be interested in anything in particular while overhead the sun shines or underneath my feet grows a single blade of grass.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I knew that my vocation was found. I had received the call, and having done so, I was sure my work would be assigned me. Of some t...hings we feel quite certain. Inside there is a click, a kind of bell that strikes, when the hands of our destiny meet at the meridian hour.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »