Poetry speaks to you either at first sight or not at all. A flash of revelation and a flash of response. Like lightning. Like falling in love.

Am reading J. M Coetzee’s Disgrace. So far, I have found the book quite depressing, but still labor through it. But it has some nice passages. I like the way the teacher teaches Wordsworth.

From a bare ridge we also first beheld
Unveiled the summit of Mont Blan and grieved
To have a soulless image on the ey
That has usurped upon a living thought
That never could be.

“A traveller grieves to see the peak unveiled. Because it is a soulless image, a mere image that has enroached upon what has hitherto been a living thought.”

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