Wednesday, March 29, 2006

85. SAYINGS OF THE BLIND - William Stafford

Feeling is believing.

Mountains don't exist. But their slopes do.

Little people have low voices.

All things, even the rocks, make a little noise.

The silence back of all sound is called "the sky."

There's a big stranger in town called the sun.
He doesn't speak to us but puts out a hand.

Night opens a door into a cellar––
you can smell it coming.

On Sundays everyone stands farther apart.

Velvet feels black.

Meeting cement is never easy.

What do they mean when they say night is gloomy?

Edison didn't invent much.

Names have a flavor.