
Homilies on the Beautitudes VI: 1, tr. S. Hall, in H. R. Drobner and A. Viciano (edd.), Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Beatitudes: An English Version and Supporting Studies (Brill, Leiden, 2000).
As quoted in Tampa Bay Magazine (January/February 2008), p. 205
Homilies on the Beautitudes VI: 1, tr. S. Hall, in H. R. Drobner and A. Viciano (edd.), Gregory of Nyssa: Homilies on the Beatitudes: An English Version and Supporting Studies (Brill, Leiden, 2000).
“This is the age in which hills can look down upon the mountains.”
A Morir [To Die]
On Writing Poetry (1995)
Context: The day I became a poet was a sunny day of no particular ominousness. I was walking across the football field, not because I was sports-minded or had plans to smoke a cigarette behind the field house — the only other reason for going there — but because this was my normal way home from school. I was scuttling along in my usual furtive way, suspecting no ill, when a large invisible thumb descended from the sky and pressed down on the top of my head. A poem formed. It was quite a gloomy poem: the poems of the young usually are. It was a gift, this poem — a gift from an anonymous donor, and, as such, both exciting and sinister at the same time. I suspect this is the way all poets begin writing poetry, only they don't want to admit it, so they make up more rational explanations. But this is the true explanation, and I defy anyone to disprove it.
"Washington and the Puget Sound" in Picturesque California (1888-1890); reprinted in Steep Trails (1918), chapter 20
1880s
Source: The Haunting of Hill House (1959), Ch. 2