...there are times when we seem to reach through what is solid, and joy descends, unlooked for and unearned, a gift....It is there, being imperfect, and with these things
And erudite in happiness, with nothing learned,
That we are joyously ourselves and we think
Without the labor of thought, in that element,
And we feel, in a way, for a moment, as if
There was a bright scienza outside ourselves,
A gaiety that is being, not merely knowing,
The will to be and to be total in belief,
Provoking a laughter, an agreement, by surprise.
- Of Bright & Blue Birds & The Gala Sun, Wallace Stevens
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