“I recall an endless desert of infinite and flaming matter. I am burning! I pass through immeasurable, unorganized time, completely done, despairing, crying in the wilderness.
And slowly the flame subsides, the womb of matter grows cool, the stone comes alive, breaks open, and a small green leaf uncurls into the air, trembling. It clutches the soil, steadies itself, raises its head and hands, grasps the air, the water, the light, and sucks at the Universe.”

Source: The House Gun

Source: Shōgun (1975), Ch. 43

III. 2, Line 4
The Progress of Poesy http://www.thomasgray.org/cgi-bin/display.cgi?text=pppo (1754)

The Saviors of God (1923)

http://www.paulglover.org/8702.html (“Where Does Ithaca’s Food Come From?”), The Grapevine, cover story 1987-02-20

Source: Uncommon Criminals

Sueño con claustros de mármol
donde en silencio divino
los héroes, de pie, reposan;
¡de noche, a la luz del alma,
hablo con ellos: de noche!
Están en fila: paseo
entre las filas: las manos
de piedra les beso: abren
los ojos de piedra: mueven
los labios de piedra: tiemblan
las barbas de piedra: empuñan
la espada de piedra: lloran:
¡viba la espade en la vaina!
Mudo, les beso la mano.
Simple Verses (1891), I dream of cloisters of marble

Source: The Titan's Curse