Oh, let there be nothing on earth but laundry,_x000D_ Nothing but rosy hands in the rising steam_x000D_ And clear dances done in the sight of heaven.
Interpretation
The quote celebrates the beauty and simplicity of everyday tasks, elevating them to art.
Richard Wilbur's quote highlights the transformative power of mundane activities, such as doing laundry, by portraying them as moments of joy and beauty. It suggests that even the most ordinary tasks can be filled with grace and can connect us to something divine when approached with mindfulness and appreciation.
In practice
In a speech about finding beauty in everyday life.
It is true that the poet does not directly address his neighbors; but he does address a great congress of persons who dwell at the back of his mind, a congress of all those who have taught him and whom he has admired; they constitute his ideal audience and his better self.
I would feel dead if I didn't have the ability periodically to put my world in order with a poem. I think to be inarticulate is a great suffering, and is especially so to anyone who has a certain knack for poetry.
Fiction is a piece of truth that turns lies to meaning.
The stories that unfold in the space of a writer's study, the objects chosen to watch over a desk, the books selected to sit on the shelves, all weave a web of echoes and reflections of meanings and affections, that lend a visitor the illusion that something of the owner of this space lives on between these walls, even if the owner is no more.
Music is worth doing just because. It doesn’t have to be justified by some political point of view, and it’s kind of insulting to the music to make it a tool for something else.
If typography is calling attention to itself, it's taking that attention away from what the words are saying.
I, too, am interested in identity and Islam, which is what people expect of us. But one must not write what is expected. It's important for North African writers to show they have other things to say.
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light Goddess, excellently bright.
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