Look out into the July night, and see the broad belt of silver flame which flashes up the half of heaven, fresh and delicate as the bonfires of the meadow-flies. Yet the powers of numbers cannot compute its enormous age,—lasting as space and time,—embosomed in time and space. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Progress of Culture”

When I do not walk in the clouds I walk as though I were lost. – Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin

I cannot get that beautiful afternoon out of my head, above me where I lay the grass was silhouetted against the blue of the heavens, small clouds were rushing past as the wind drove them on an endless journey. – Julia Lee-Booker, letter to Pat McSwiney, 1940 July 24