Every now and again, I’ll thumb through past entries in my journal, not because I’m a narcissist, but because I mostly use my journal to record the lovely and true things that I find along the way, so that once they’ve slipped out of my conscious memory I can have the joy of rediscovering them months later. This morning I found this quote from when I was reading Faith, Hope and Poetry, back in January.
“…though what if Earth
Be but the shadow of Heav’n, and things therin
Each to other like, more than on Earth is thought?”
(Paradise Lost, V, lines 570-576)
“For Milton, as for Coleridge after him, it is not only humanity that makes poetry, but God, and if our poetry is made of words about things, God’s poetry is made of the very things themselves.
This universe we think so solid and so self-contained, the visible cosmos which we seem content to read literally and only literally, is also the poetry of our maker. It is speech, in the language of form and motion, spoken to us from Heaven.
The business of science is to construe the surface meaning of the text of the universe, but it is the business of poetry to understand the deeper things of which the text is really speaking.”
(Malcolm Guite, Faith, Hope and Poetry, p. 140)