The American mind exasperated the European as a buzz-saw might exasperate a pine-forest. The English mind disliked the French mind... because it was antagonistic, unreasonable, perhaps hostile, but recognized it as at least a thought. The American mind was not a thought at all; it was a convention, superficial, narrow, and ignorant; a mere cutting instrument, practical, economical, sharp and direct. The English themselves hardly conceived that their mind was either economical, sharp or direct; but the defect that most struck an American was its enormous waste in eccentricity. Americans needed and used their whole energy, and applied it with close economy; but English society was eccentric by law and for sake of the eccentricity itself.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,... Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
"... You can hear the small buzz saws whine, the big saw Caterwaul to the hills around the village... As they both bite the wood. It's all our music. One ought as a good villager to like it. No doubt it has a sort of prosperous sound, And it's our life." "Yes, when it's not our death."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Well, when you're up there and you're all alone, see, it's just you and your ship and the sky. And you don't want anybody up there... with you, you don't want anybody to spoil it. Everything's kind of still, and you have a feeling that you're halfway to heaven. You don't even seem to hear the sound of your own motor, just a kind of a buzz, like the sky was calling you. Like the sky was singin' you a song.... Yeah. And somehow it's never eight o'clock up there, it's always now. And the earth is so far below you that it just doesn't matter anymore, the sky is the thing that's important. The sky is your pal. You feel like nudging it and saying, "Hiya sky, how are you today? And how was the old moon the last time you saw him?" The wind drift comes straight off the morning star and beautiful white clouds drift towards you. And they're like old friends. Friends you never want to say goodbye to. And you see a patch of clear air in between 'em and you duck in and out, like a porpoise rollin' in the ocean. And then you say to yourself, "Boy, oh boy, this is the only time a man is really ever alive. It's the only time he's really ever free." The old sky smiles back at you and says, "Boy, you're right. You're dead right."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
With Blue--uncertain stumbling Buzz-- Between the light--and me-- And then the Windows failed--and then I could not see to see--LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Eyes that last I saw in tears Through division... Here in death's dream kingdom The golden vision reappears I see the eyes but not the tears This is my afflictionLESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »