Poetry has no proof nor plan nor evidence by decree or in any other
way. From somewhere in the twilight realm of sound a spirit of
belief flares up at the point where meaning stops and the unreality
of what seems most real floods over us. The inward ardor I feel
while working in research libraries is intuitive. It's a sense of self-
identification and trust, or the granting of grace in an ordinary
room, in a secular time."
~ Susan Howe