You helpless, foolish man, I love you all I can, I think. (Elizabeth Bishop, "")
It is like what we imagine knowledge to be dark, salt, clear, moving, utterly free, drawn from the cold hard mouth of the world, derived from the rocky breast forever, flowing and drawn, and since our knowledge is historical, flowing, and flow. (Elizabeth Bishop)
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here Where should we be today Is it right to be watching strangers in a play in this strangest of theatres (Elizabeth Bishop)