In Thoreau’s Journal:
One sentence of perennial poetry would make me forget, would atone for, volumes of mere science. The astronomer is as blind to the significant phenomena, or the significance of phenomena, as the wood-sawyer who wears glasses to defend his eyes from sawdust. The question is not what you look at, but what you see.
Now then the river’s brim is in perfection after the mikania is in bloom & before the Pontederia & pads & the willows are too much imbrowned….