Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless whole Like some pocket history of the world, so general As to constitute a sob or wail
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the superficiality of brief encounters compared to a deeper understanding of the world.
John Ashbery's quote contemplates the nature of human connections and knowledge. It suggests that while we may only briefly know each individual, this limited understanding is overshadowed by our fragmented view of humanity as a whole, which is ultimately insufficient and devoid of depth. The metaphor of a 'pocket history of the world' implies that such generalized knowledge can lead to a sense of loss and sorrow, highlighting the inadequacy of our attempts to grasp the complexity of life and relationships.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of human connections, this quote can illustrate the depth we often miss in fleeting interactions.
The evening light was like honey in the trees When you left me and walked to the end of the street Where the sunset abruptly ended. The wedding-cake drawbridge lowered itself To the fragile forget-me-not flower. You climbed aboard. Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones, Dreams I had, including suicide, Puff out the hot-air balloon now. It is bursting, it is about to burst
But always and sometimes questioning the old modes_x000D_ _x000D_ And the new wondering, the poem, growing up through the floor,_x000D_ _x000D_ Standing tall in tubers, invading and smashing the ritual_x000D_ _x000D_ Parlor, demands to be met on its own terms now,_x000D_ _x000D_ Now that the preliminary negotiations are at last over.
Then let yourself love all that you take delight in_x000D_ _x000D_ Accept yourself whole, accept the heritage_x000D_ _x000D_ That shaped you and is passed on from age to age_x000D_ _x000D_ Down to your entity. Remain mysterious;_x000D_ _x000D_ Rather than be pure, accept yourself as numerous.
until only infinity remained of beauty
The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be.
The sun fades like the spreading_x000D_ _x000D_ Of a peacock's tail, as though twilight_x000D_ _x000D_ Might be read as a warning to those desperate_x000D_ _x000D_ For easy solutions.
Anyone who knows me, should learn to know me again; For I am like the Moon, you will see me with new face everyday.
since some people had told me that I was ugly, I always preferred shade to the sun, darkness to light
No revolution is worth anything unless it can defend itself.
As much as the world has an instinct for evil and is a breeding ground for genocide, holocaust, slavery, racism, war, oppression, and injustice, the world has an even greateer instinct for goodness, rebirth, mercy, beauty, truth, freedom and love.
It is not necessary to seek the truth among others which it is easy to obtain from the Church; since the apostles, like a rich man [depositing his money] in a bank, lodged in her hands most copiously all things pertaining to the truth.
Peace and not war is the father of all things.
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