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["Dearest Johnny, As I seem to have been granted temporary clemency from rabid thoughts, reflections pour out of me at an alarming rate. I think of all the heartache I subjected your beautiful father to. I think of everything I have put you through. It is completely within reason for you to turn your back on me forever. It might even be the wisest decision. Saint Elizabeth was right to warn us from the rooms of Bedlam. I am hopelessly unreliable, and though my love for you bums so brightly all would seem thrown into darkness were the sun to eclipse it, such feelings can still never excuse my condition. The Director has patiently explained to me, probably for the thousandth time, that my varied dispositions are the result of faulty wiring. For the most part I have come to accept his evaluation. (He quotes Emily Dickinson, saying I cover the abyss with a trance so my memories can manage a way around it\u2014this \u201cpain so utter.\u201d) Sometimes, however, I wonder if my problems originate elsewhere. In my own childhood, for example. These days I like to believe\u2014which is a shade different from belief itself\u2014all I really needed to survive was the voice my own mother never gave me. The one we all need but one I never heard. Once, a long while ago, I watched a little black girl fall off a street curb and skin both her knees. When she got up, wailing like a siren, I could see that her shins and the palms of her hands were flecked with hurt. The mother had no gauze or antiseptic or even running water handy but she still managed to care for her daughter. She whisked her up in her arms and murmured over and over the perfect murmurs, powerful enough to fully envelop her child in the spell and comfort of only a few words: \u201cIt\u2019ll be okay. It\u2019ll be alright.\u201d To me, my mother only said \u2018That won\u2019t do.\u201d She was right. It didn\u2019t do at all. Love, Mom November 27, 1988 Dear, dear Johnny, So convinced such happiness has to be a dream\u2014especially these days\u2014I have repeatedly asked the Director whether or not you were really here yesterday. One lifetime ago I was crouched in shadow and in the next I am with you. How profound the differance. Victoria Lucas once said there\u2019s nothing \u2018so black.. . as the inferno of the human mind.\u201d She didn\u2019t know you. You shimmered almost to the point where I had to squint for fear you\u2019d burn away another chance for me to ever see you again.","I was even confused at first. You detected that, I saw. You\u2019re so keen. Keener than Anaxagoras. But it\u2019s true. A vagrant thought had momentarily convinced me that I was dead and your father had been restored to me. Fortunately my better faculties righted my first impression: this figure was taller and broader and in all respects stronger than my love. Here was my son, come at long last and at a time when at last I could recognize him. If my tears upset you, you should understand they were not spilled out of grief or bitterness but out of pure bliss for having you here with me, able to lift my spirits so effortlessly, carry this old heap of bones, all of me, safe and warm in my dear child\u2019s arms. For a few hours, every yesteryear repealed its hold. I felt free and silly. A school girl once again giggling out the day and in the presence of such a fine young man. Your adventures in Europe caught me between heartbreak and laughter. You tell your stories so well, all that tramping over the continent for four months with only a backpack, a Pelican pen and a few hundred dollars. I\u2019m glad to see you gained back most of the weight you lost. Of course, only now as I write you this letter do I realize how careful you were to keep me from your greater troubles and mutilations. How can I not appreciate your protective instincts? Nevertheless, I assure you that I am fine and would love nothing more than to rally at your side, urge you through the hard times, and where the obstacles seem insurmountable, opponents invulnerable, play the part of the witch again and cast dreadful spells. Open yourself to me. I will not harm your secrets. Do not think your mother cannot read in her own child the trauma he still endures every day and evening. I am here. Ever devoted. Still surfeit with tenderness, affection and most of all love, your mother Mr. John XXXXXX xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx January 12, 1989 Dear Mr._______ As you requested in your last visit, I am writing now to inform you that your mother\u2019s condition may be on the decline again. We are doing our best to adjust her medication, and while this relapse could prove temporary, you may want to prepare yourself for the worst.","If there are any questions I can answer, please do not hesitate to contact me at ______________. Also, I wish to remind you that I will be retiring at the end of March. Dr. David J. Draines will be taking my place. He is very capable and well versed in psychiathe care. He will provide your mother with the very best treatment. Sincerely yours, ______ ________ M.D., Ph. D. Director The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute February 28, 1989 Dear Johnny, It\u2019s remarkable how much I continue to improve. For the first time ever, the Director has suggested I might even be able to leave. Every day I read, write, exercise, eat well, sleep well and enjoy the occasional movie on the television. For the first time, I feel normal. I know you are swept up in a tide of your own affairs but would it be possible for you to purchase for me a suitcase? I shall need a large one as well as a carry-on. Any color is fine though I prefer something akin to amethyst, heliotrope or maybe lilac. It\u2019s been so long since I\u2019ve traveled, I\u2019ve forgotten if one checks one\u2019s luggage at the station or do I just carry everything to my compartment on the train? Is there room beneath the sleeper or am I forgetting some other sort of storage place? (That is my thinking behind the smaller carry-on.) Love, P. March 31, 1989 Dear Johnny, Why have you written me such lovely letters and yet failed to mention my luggage? If my request is a terrible imposition I wish you would just say so. Your mother\u2019s an able woman. She\u2019ll find another way. As it is I\u2019m fairly annoyed. The Director left today and I was informed that ill had been packed I could have left with him. Unfortunately, while I am quite adept at folding and arranging my belongings, my inability to place them anywhere impedes my ascent into my new life\u2014 drowsy, baked in sun, with you. 1, P","May 3, 1989 Dear John, With no luggage to speak of\u2014amethyst, lilac or otherwise\u2014I\u2019ve had nowhere to put my things and so I\u2019ve lost all of it. To be honest I don\u2019t know where all of it went. Clearly the worker bees have stolen it. By the way I was mistaken. The Director didn\u2019t leave. He\u2019s still here. The new one is the same one after all. In other words everything is fine, though the Old Director\u2019s moods have been a little odd lately. I think I\u2019ve upset him somehow. There\u2019s something malicious in his manner now, very slight, but noticeable just the same, a nasty, twisting wire woven into the fabric of an otherwise perfectly decent man. No matter. I cannot tire myself on the feelings of the world. I am leaving after all, though it is no easy task, especially for this old Sibyl of Cumae. Climes of any kind are trying. Frankly I\u2019m exhausted by all the planning and the paperwork. Donnie will pick me up soon, very soon, but you my dear child, you should stay awhile. Do that for me. Mmmy Mr. John XXXXXX xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx May 5, 1989 Dear Mr.________ We regret to inform you that on May 4, 1989 at approximately 8:45 P.M. your mother, Pelafina Heather Li\u00e8vre, died in her room at The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute. After a detailed examination, both our resident doctor, Thomas Janovinovich M.D., as well as the county coroner, confirmed the cause of death was the result of self-inflicted asphyxiation achieved with bed linen hung from a closet hook. Ms. Li\u00e8vre was 59. Please permit us to express our sincere condolences over your terrible loss. Perhaps it will be of some solace to know that despite the severity of her mental affliction, your mother","managed to show much humor in her last year and attendants said she often spoke fondly of her only son. While this will be a difficult time, we urge you to contact us as soon as possible to make arrangements for her burial. The conditions of her enrollment here already provide for a standard cremation. However for an additional $3,000, we would happily provide a proper casket and service. For another $1,000, a burial plot may also be secured at the nearby Wain Cemetery. Again we wish to extend our sympathies over the death of Ms. Livre. [sic] If we can be of any help during this time of need, whether by answering questions or assisting you with funeral plans, please feel free to contact us directly at _____________ Respectfully yours, David J. Draines, M.D. Director The Three Attic Whalestoe Institute #669-951381-.6634646-94 #162- 11231-1614161-23 This receipt indicates that on September 8, 1989, the following article previously owned by Ms. Pelafina Heather Li\u00e8vre was claimed by her son John _________ one jewelry.","F. Various Quotes","Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Anonymous Le coeur a ses raisons, que Ia raison ne connait point. [435\u2014 \u201cThe heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.TM \u2014 Ed.] Blaise Pascal Pens\u00e9es We have to describe and to explain a building the upper story of which was erected in the nineteenth century; the ground-floor dates from the sixteenth century, and a careful examination of the masonry discloses the fact that it was reconstructed from a dwelling-tower of the eleventh century. In the cellar we discover Roman foundation walls, and under the cellar a filled-in cave, in the floor of which stone tools are found and remnants of glacial fauna in the layers below. That would be a sort of picture of our mental structure. C. G. Jung \u201cMind and the Earth\u201d Je ne vois qu \u2018infini par toutes Iesfenetres. [436\u2014Through all windows, I see only Infinity.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Charles Baudelaire Les Fleurs du Ma! A professor\u2019s view: \u201cIt\u2019s the commentaries on Shakespeare that matter, not Shakespeare.\u201d Anton Chekhov Notebooks","Un livre est un grand cimeti\u00e8re oil sur la plupart des tombes on ne peut plus lire les noms effacds. [437\u2014A book is a vast cemetery where for the most part one can no longer read the faded names on the tombstones.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Marcel Proust Alles nahe werdefrrn. [438\u2014 \u201cEverything near becomes distant.\u201d As translated by Eliot Weinberger. \u2014 Ed.] Goethe There are not leaves enough to crown, To cover, to crown, to cover\u2014let it go \u2014 The actor that will at last declaim our end. Wallace Stevens \u201cUnited Dames of America\u201d Nubes\u2014incertum procul intuentibus ex quo monte (Vesuvium fi4isse postea cognitum est)\u2014 oriebatur, cuius similitudinem etformam non alia magis arbor quam pinus expresserit. Nam longissimo velut trunco elata in altum quibusdam ramis dffundebatur, credo quia recenti spiritu evecta, dein senescente eo destituta aut etiam pondere suo victa in latitudinem vanescebat, candida interdum, interdum sordida et maculosa prout terram cineremve sustulerat. [439\u2014 \u201cThe cloud was rising; watchers from our distance could not tell from which mountain, though later It was known to be Vesuvius. In appearance and shape it was like a tree\u2014the [umbrella] pine would give the best idea of it. Like an Immense tree trunk It was projected Into the air, and opened out with branches. I believe that It was carried up by a violent gust, then left as the gust faltered; or, overcome by Its own weight, It scattered widely\u2014 sometimes white, sometimes dark and mottled, depending on whether it bore ash or cinders.\u201d As translated by Joseph Jay Deiss In Flerculaneum (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1985), p. 11. \u2014 Ed.] Young Pliny Letters and Panegyricus Book VI","Quel\u2019 che tu si i\u2019 sev\u2019, qul\u2019 che i\u2019 son\u2019 a\u2019devend\u2019. [440\u2014\u201cQuello che tu sei 10 ero, quello che io sono tu sarai.] [441\u2014\u201dWhat you are I was, what I am you will be.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Neapolitan Proverb Homer Iliad Detto cosI,fu ilprimo a lasciare ii Consiglio; e quelli si aizarono, obbedirono a! pastore d \u2018eserciti i re scettrati. Intanto I soldati accorrevano; come vanno gli sciami dell\u2019api innumerevoli ch\u2019escono senza posa da unforo di roccia, e volano a grappolo suifiori di primavera, queste in Jolla volteggiano qua, queue l\u00e0; cosifitte le schiere dalle navi e dalle tende lungo la riva bassa si disponevano in file, affollandosi all\u2019assemblea; tra lorofiammeggiava Ia Fama, messaggera di Zeus, spin gendoli a andare: quelli serravano. Tumultuava l\u2019assemblea; Ia terra gemeva, sotto, mentre i soldati sedevano; v\u2019era chwtsso. E nove araldi, urlando, ii trattenevano, se mai la voce abbassassero, ascoltassero i re alunni de Zeus. A stento infine sederte 1 \u2018esercito, furon tenuti a posto, smettendo ii voclo. Omero Iliade","Homer Ilias Gomer Iliada Ce\/a di:, ii quitre le premier le Conseil. Sur quoi les autres se l\u00e8vent: tous les rois porteurs de sceptre ob\u00eaissent au pasteur d\u2019hommes. Les homes d\u00e9j\u00e0 accourent. Comme on volt les abeilles, par troupes compactes, sortir d\u2019un afire creux, \u00e0flots toujours nouveaux, pour former une grappe, qui bient\u00f4t voltige au-dessus des fleurs du printemps, tandis que beaucoup d\u2019autres s\u2019en vont voletant, les unes par-cl, les autres par-l\u00e0; ainsi, des nefs et des baraques, des troupes sans nombre viennent se ranger, par groupes serr\u00e9s, en avant du rivage bas, pour prendre part a 1 \u2018assembl\u00e9e, Parmi elles, Rumeur, messag\u00e8re de Zeus, est k qui flambe et les","pousse a marcher, jusqu \u2018au moment o\u00e0 tous se trouvent r\u00e9unis. L \u2018assembl\u00e9e est houleuse; le so! gemit sous les guerriers occup\u00e9s a s\u2019asseoir; le tumulte r\u00e8gne. Neuf h\u00e9rauts, en criant, t\u00e2chent a contenir la foule: ne pourrait-elle arr\u00eater sa clameur, pour \u00e9couter les rois issus de Zeus! Ce n \u2018est pas sans peine que les hommes s \u2018asseoient et qu \u2018enfin us consentent a demeurer en place, tous cris cessant. [442\u2014The Greek (Homer), Italian (Rosa Calzecchi Onesti), German (Johann Heinrich Voss), Russian (Gnedich), and French (Paul Mazon) all refer to the same passage: \u201cOn this he turned and led the way from council,! and all the rest, staff-bearing counselors,! rose and obeyed their marshaL From the camp! the troops were turning now, thick as bees\/ that issue from some crevice In a rock face! endlessly pouring forth, to make a cluster! and swarm on blooms of summer here and there,! glinting and droning, busy in bright air.! Like bees innumerable from ships and huts! down the deep foreshore streamed those regiments! toward the assembly ground\u2014and Rumor blazed! among them like a crier sent from Zeus. Turmoil grew in the great field as they entered! and sat down, clangorous companies, the ground \/ under them groaning, hubbub everywhere.\/ Now nine men, criers, shouted to compose them: \/ Quiet! Quiet! Attention! Hear our captains!\u2019! \/ Then all strove to their seats and hushed their din.\u201d As translated by Robert Fitzgerald. The Iliad (Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, 1975), p. 38. \u2014 Ed.] Hom\u00e8re Iliade Through Wisdom Is An House Builded And By Understanding It Is Established And By Knowledge Shall The Chambers Be Filled With All Precious And Pleasant Riches. University of Virginia commemorative plaque As I dig for wild orchids in the autumn fields, it is the deeply-bedded root that I desire, not the flower. Izumi Shikibu","Dicamus et labyrinthos, vel porrentosissimum humani inpendii opus, sed flon, Ut existimari potest, falsum. [443\u2014 \u201cWe must speak also of the labyrinths, the most astonishing work of human riches. but not, as one might think, fictitious.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Pliny Natural History 36.19.84 Philosophy is written in this grand book\u2014I mean the universe\u2014which stands continually open to our gaze, but it cannot be understood unless one first learns to comprehend the language and interpret the characters in which it is written. It is written in the language of mathematics, and its characters are triangles, circles and other geometrical figures, without which it is humanly impossible to understand a single word of it; without these, one is wandering about in a dark labyrinth. Galileo II Saggiatore Others apart sat on a hill retir\u2019d, In thoughts more elevate, and reason\u2019d high Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix\u2019d fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end, in wand\u2019ring mazes lost. John Milton Paradise Lost It is the personality of the mistress that the home expresses. Men are forever guests in our homes, no matter how much happiness they may find there. Elise De Wolfe The House in Good Taste La maison, c \u2018est l.a maison de famille, C \u2018est pour y mettre les enfants er les hommes, pour les retenir dans un endroit fait pour eux, pour y contenir leur \u00e9garemenr, les distraire de cetie humeur d\u2019aventure, defuite qui est Ia leur depuis les commencements des ages. [444\u2014\u201cA","house means a faintly house, a place specially meant for putting children and men In so as to restrict their waywardness and distract them from the longing for adventure and escape they\u2019ve had since time began.\u201d As translated by Barbara Bray in Duras\u2019 Practicaittles (New York: Grove, 1990), p. 42. \u2014 Ed.] Marguerite Duras Practicalities L\u2019homme se cr0 it un h\u00e9ros, toujours comme l\u2019enfant. L\u2019homme aime la guerre, la chasse, Ia p\u00eache, les motos, les autos, comme l\u2019enfant. Quand ii don, ca se voit, et on aime les hommes comme Ca, les femmes. II tie faut pas se mentir l\u00e0-dessus. Cz aime les hommes innocents, cruels, on aime les chasseurs, les guerriers, on aime les enfants. [445\u2014 \u201cMen think they\u2019re heroes\u2014again Just like children. Men love war, hunting, fishing, motorbikes, cars, Just like children. When they\u2019re sleepy you can see It. And women like men to be like that. We mustn\u2019t fool ourselves. We like men to be innocent and cruel; we like hunters and warriors; we like children.\u201d Duras again, as translated by Barbara Bray, p. 51. \u2014 Ed.] Marguerite Duras Practicalities again The only wife for me now is the damp earth... Heho-ho!... The grave that is!... Here my son\u2019s dead and I am alive... It\u2019s a strange thing, death has come in at the wrong door. Anton Chekhov again \u201cMisery\u201d lam cinis, adhuc tamen rarus. Respicio: densa coiigo tergis imminebat, quae nos torrentis modo infusa terive sequebarur. \u201cDejiectamus\u201d inquam \u201cthan videmus, ne in via strati comitantium turba in tenebris obteramur.\u201d Vix consideramus, et nox non qualis inlunis aut nublia, sed qualis in locis clausis lumine exstincto. [446\u2014 \u201cAshes were already falling, not as yet very thickly. I looked round: a dense black cloud was coming up behind us, spreading over the earth like a flood. \u2018Let us leave the road while we can still see,\u2019 I said, \u2018or we shall be knocked down and trampled underfoot in the dark by the crowd behind.\u2019 We had scarcely sat down to rest when darkne fell, not the dark of a moonleas or oloudy night, but aa if the lamp had been put out in a closed room.\u201d As translated by Betty Radice, Pliny: Letters and Panegyricus. Volume 1 (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1969), p. 445.\u2014Ed.]","Young Pliny again He turned his stare towards me, and he led me away to the palace of Irkalla, the Queen of Darkness, to the house from which none who enters ever returns, down the road from which there is no coming back. \u201cThere is the house whose people sit in darkness; dust is their food and clay their meat. They are clothed like birds with wings for covering, they see no light, they sit in darkness. . The Epic of Gilgamesh The Mother of the Muses, we are taught, Walter Savage Landor Is Memory: she has left me. \u201cMemory\u201d Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Paradise Lost again Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls Her wat\u2019ry Labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. The comets Have such a space to cross, Such coldness, forgetfulness. So your gestures flake off \u2014 Warm and human, then their pink light Bleeding and peeling","Through the black amnesias of heaven. Sylvia Plath \u201cThe Night Dances\u201d Gilgamesh listened and his tears flowed. He opened his mouth and spoke to Enkidu: \u201cWho is there in strong-walled Uruk who has wisdom like this? Strange things have been spoken, why does your heart speak strangely? The dream was marvelous but the terror was great; we must treasure the dream whatever the terror; for the dream has shown that misery comes at last to the healthy man, the end of life is sorrow...\u201d Again The Epic of Gilgamesh I am missing innumerable shades\u2014they were so fine, so difficult to render in colourless words. Joseph Teodor Korzeniowski Lord Jim Hige sceal Je heardra, heorte e c\u00ebnre, mod sceal J>e mare, J\u00eb Ure mzgen ltla [447\u2014By as much as our might may diminish, we will harden our minds, fill our hearts, and Increase our courage.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] The Battle of Maldon I wished to show that space-time is not necessarily something to which one can ascribe a separate existence, independently of the actual objects of physical reality. Physical objects are not in space, but these objects are spatially extended. In this way the concept of \u201cempty space\u201d loses its meaning. Albert Einstein \u201cNote to the Fifteenth Edition\u201d Relativity: The Special and General Theory","Let us space. Jacques Demda Glas L \u2018odeur du silence ext si vieille. [448\u2014 \u201cThe odor of silence Is so old.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] O. W. De L. Milosz For all the voice in answer he could wake Was but the mocking echo of his own From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake. Some morning from the boulder-broken beach He would cry out on life, that what it wants Is not its own love back in copy speech, But counter-love, original response. And then in the far-distant water splashed, But after a time allowed for it to swim, Instead of proving human when it neared And someone else additional to him, As a great buck it powerfully appeared, Pushing the crumpled water up ahead... Robert Frost \u201cThe Most of It\u201d All that I have said and done, Now that I am old and ill, Turns into a question till I lie awake night after night And never get the answers right. Did that play of mind send out Certain men the English shot? Did words of mine put too great strain On that woman\u2019s reeling brain? Could my spoken words have checked That whereby a house lay wrecked?","William Butler Yeats \u201cMan and the Echo\u201d Have not we too?\u2014yes, we have William Wordsworth Answers, and we know not whence; \u201cYes, It Was the Mountain Echo\u201d Echoes from beyond the grave, Recognised intelligence! Elizabeth Bishop Such rebounds our inward ear \u201cChemin de Fer\u201d Catches sometimes from afar \u2014 Listen, ponder, hold them dear; Derick Thomson For of God,\u2014of God they are. Return from Death \u201cLove should be put into action!\u201d screamed the old hermit. Across the pond an echo tried and tried to confirm it. When I came back from death it was morning the back door was open and one of the buttons of my shirt had disappeared. Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know.","Echo. No. Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves? Echo. Leaves. And are there any leaves, that still abide? Echo. Bide. What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly. Echo. Holy. Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse? Echo. Yes. Then tell me, what is that supreme delight? Echo. Light. George Herbert \u201cHeaven\u201d L \u2018amour n \u2018est pas consolation, ii est lumi\u00e8re.\u201d [449\u2014 \u201cLove is not consolation, it Is light.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Simone Weil Cahier VI (K6) Of what is this house composed if not of the sun. Wallace Stevens \u201cAn Ordinary Evening in New Haven\u201d We tell you, tapping on our brows, The story as it should be, \u2014 As if the story of a house Were told, or ever could be. Edwin Arlington Robinson \u201cEros Turannos\u201d","Should not every apartment in which man dwells be lofty enough to create some obscurity overhead, where flickering shadows may play at evening about the rafters? Henry David Thoreau Walden Werjetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr. [450\u2014 \u201cWhoever has no house now, will never have one.\u201d \u2014 Ed.] Rainer Maria Rilke \u201cAutumn Day\u201d I have brought the great bail of crystal; who can lift it? Can you enter the great acorn of light? But the beauty is not the madness Tho\u2019 my errors and wrecks lie about me. And I am not a demigod, I cannot make it cohere. If love be not in the house there is nothing. Ezra Pound \u201cCanto CXVI\u201d Yeah well, sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand. Donn Pearce and Frank R. Pierson Cool Hand Luke","Appendix III Contrary evidence. \u2014 The Editors","The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, Volume XXVIII. San Francisco: The History Company, Publishers. 1886.","\u201cRescue: The Navidson Record\u201d designed by Tyler Martin. Magoo-Zine. Santa Fe, New Mexico. October 1993.","\u201cAnother Great Hall on Ash Tree Lane\u201d by Mazerine Diasen First exhibited during the Cale R. Warden Cinema- On-Canvas New York City Arts Festival. 1994.","Sarah Newberry\u2019s \u201cConceptual Model of the Navidson House.\u201d Graduate School of Design, Harvard University. 1993","\u201cMan Looking In\/Outward.\u201d Titled still-frame from \u201cExploratin #4.\u201d The Talmor Zedactur Collection. VHS. 1991","Index [missing]","Credits Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material: Farrar, Straus and Girous, LLC: Excerpt from \u201cChemin de Fer\u201d from The Complete Poems 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop. Copyright \u00a9 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux LLC. HarperCollins Publishers. Inc., and Faber and Faber Ltd.: Excerpt from \u201cThe Night Dances\u201d from ArteI by Sylvia Plath. Copyright \u00a9 1966 by Ted Hughes. Rights outside the United States from Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath administered by Faber and Faber Ltd., London. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., and Faber and Faber Ltd. Henry Holt and Company, LL.C: Excerpts from \u201cThe Most of It\u201d by Robert Frost from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright \u00a9 1942 by Robert Frost, Copyright \u00a9 1970 by Lesley Frost Ballantine. Copyright \u00a9 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, LLC. Reprinted by permission of Henry Holt and Company. LLC. New Directions Publishing Corporation and Faber and Faber Ltd.: \u201cCanto CXVI\u201d from The Cantos of Ezra Pound by Ezra Pound. Copyright \u00a9 1934, 1938, 1948 by Ezra Pound. Rights in the United Kingdom administered by Faber and Faber Ltd., London. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation and Faber and Faber Ltd. Simon & Schuster Inc., and A.R Watt LEd: Excerpts from \u201cThe Man and the Echo\u201d by William Butler Yeats from The Poems of W. B. Yeats: A New Edition, edited by Richard J. Finneran. Copyright \u00a9 1940 by Georgie Yeats. Copyright renewed 1968 by Bertha Georgie Yeats, Michael Butler Yeats, and Anne Yeats. Rights outside the United States administered on behalf of Michael B. Yeats by A.P. Watt Ltd., London. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc. and A.P. Watt Ltd. Vintage Books: Excerpt of poem from The Ink Dark Moon by Jane Hlrshfield and Mariko AratamL Copyright \u00a9 1990 by Jane Hirshfield and Marlko Aratami. Reprinted by permission of Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Special thanks to the Tahnor Zedactur Depositary for providing a VHS copy of Exploration #4.\u201d All interior photos by Andrew Bush except pages 549 & 662 captured by Gil Kofman and page 659 scanned by Tyler Martin.","Ygg d r a s i l What miracle is this? This giant tree. It stands ten thousand feet high But doesn\u2019t reach the ground. Still it stands. Its roots must hold the sky. O"]