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The sun just drops down through the poplars.
I should sit out and watch it rather than
Write this!
******* Norman Dubie
Two colors, now, on a winter hill:
Two colors! Red and white. A barber's bowl!
Two colors like the peppers
In the windows
Of the town below the hill.
******* Norman Dubie, February: The Boy Breughel, 1983

Pieter Breughel - Les Chausseurs en Hiver
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A book is a thing among things . . . until it meets its reader. . . . What then occurs is that singular emotion called beauty, that lovely mystery which neither psychology nor criticism can describe.
****** Jorge Luis Borges

Ethel Louise Coe - Woman Reading, 1925
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. . . . the leap
we talked, too late, of making
which I live now
not as a leap
but a succession of brief, amazing movements
each one making possible the next
******* Adrienne Rich

Paul Cezanne, Chateau Noir, 1900-04
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