: 11 March 2002 :

(Library, 4:00 p.m.)

Looking absently, diagonally across the building, above the square opening to the lower room, I see the bronze Tolkien bust. He sits austerely in that corner, looking oblivious, looking forward. The dull bricks beige behind him through the window with a corner of greying sky just visible.

A girl rustles past, across my line of sight. I change my focus for a second, accidentally catching her eye, then go back to staring at the brickwork outside.

“The beauties of the sensory world reveal themselves fortuitously, casually, delightfully. We are reading a poet who is to include the following in his aphorisms: “Parfait Martinique: coffee mousse, rum on top, a little cream on top of that.” ”

Daniel Fuchs, The Comic Spirit of Wallace Stevens