Quotes from Kenneth White

trying to translate into a language that's known a poem writ in the language of stone

This is the summit of contemplation, and no art can touch it Blue, so blue, the far-out archipelago and the sea shimmering, shimmering No art can touch it, the mind can only try to become attuned to it To become quiet, and space itself out, to become open and still, unworlded Knowing itself in the diamond country, in the ultimate unlettered light. A High Blue Day on Scalpay

The other day, in the course of one of those more or less clandestine visits to the city on the Clyde I make from time to time, I was walking down Buchanan Street when I came smack up against something I'd never seen before: that sculpture of a big bird struggling into flight called Concept of Kentigern. Maybe Glasgow is about ready to leave its status as industrial mastadon of the Western world and fly over into other dimensions. Maybe there's a good time coming.