Not much. Always something. Mostly good.

Louis Simpson: The Silent Piano

We have lived like civilized people. O ruins, traditions!

And we have seen the barbarians, breakers of sculpture and glass.

And now we talk of ‘the inner life’, and I ask myself, where is it?

Not here, in these streets and houses, so I think it must be found

in indolence, pure indolence, an ocean of darkness,

in silence, an arm of the moon, a hand that enters slowly.

*  *  * I am reminded of a story Camus tells, of a man in prison camp.

He had carved a piano keyboard with a nail on a piece of wood.

And sat there playing the piano. This music was made entirely of silence.


Wallace Stevens: The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm

The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night

Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet and the world was calm.

The words were spoken as if there was no book, Except that the reader leaned above the page,

Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be The scholar to whom the book is true, to whom

The summer night is a perfection of thought. The house was quiet because it had to be.

The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind: The access of perfection to the page.

And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself

Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there.


Curated Good News 2014-08-04

Links only today

Spray-painted solar cells Very cool.

Binishell Dome Homes from $3,500 Efficient, cost-effective, durable housing.

NASA say “Impossible Engine” could work The EmDrive reborn!

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