Saturday, March 12, 2016

acquaint /əˈkwānt/

Dante, Petrarch, St. Augustine, El Greco, William Blake, William Cowper, Georges Bernanos, Nietze, Goethe, Einstein, Eckhart Tolle, Michael Gualtieri…

Call them teachers, scientists, journalists, statesmen, philosophers, artists. Call them by the tasks they undertook at different stages of their lives, some of which they abandoned as they learned better. To me, they are all poets. That is the qualification they have earned by my accounting.

I like to think that I understand them just enough that I may consider them role models; that it is authentic, this function I undertake on my best days, and in their tradition.

“And I resolved in Thy sight, not tumultuously to tear, but gently to withdraw, the service of my tongue from the marts of lip-labour: that the young, no students in Thy law, nor in Thy peace, but in lying dotages and law-skirmishes, should no longer buy at my mouth arms for their madness.”–St. Augustine

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