"Considering that, all hatred driven hence,
The soul recovers radical innocence
And learns at last that it is self-delighting,
Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,
And that its own sweet will is Heaven’s will;
She can, though every face should scowl
And every windy quarter howl
Or every bellows burst, be happy still."
Yeats, A Poem for My Daughter, stanza 9-in "Bewilderment: A Novel" by Richard Powers: https://a.co/0IrGQsH
No comments:
Post a Comment