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And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems. John Milton		Monday Jan 05, 2026
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

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People. I knew some of them, but not now. On the moon, I wander among the many pot holes. Their shadows make me feel planet-stricken. Display model #1: Clusters of magnetic liquids. I would like to uncover the mystery of the scrim. Will I rise to the occasion when it decides to fall by? A tiny walled-off angel lays an egg. A secret life-the ruminations of a creature that walks without legs, eats without a mouth, breathes without lungs, feels without nerves, then divides and conquers. What happens when you try to squeeze a puddle of gravity in your hand? It dissolves into hundreds of silver eggs. Me too. The incubation period was over. Display model #2: People backed up into a dark corner. Unearthed puzzle, the same the moon all over. Next stage? Parachute, the final explanation arising as I make my slow descent.

Quote Author: Gillian McCain

	Gillian McCain

Other Gillian McCain Quotes

People. I knew some of them, but not now. On the moon, I wander among the many pot holes. Their shadows make me feel planet-stricken. Display model #1: Clusters of magnetic liquids. I would like to uncover the mystery of the scrim. Will I rise to the occasion when it decides to fall by? A tiny walled-off angel lays an egg. A secret life-the ruminations of a creature that walks without legs, eats without a mouth, breathes without lungs, feels without nerves, then divides and conquers. What happens when you try to squeeze a puddle of gravity in your hand? It dissolves into hundreds of silver eggs. Me too. The incubation period was over. Display model #2: People backed up into a dark corner. Unearthed puzzle, the same the moon all over. Next stage? Parachute, the final explanation arising as I make my slow descent.

Okay, I'm sorry I don't write poems about sunsets and nature and mystical experiences, I only know what I know; I could write that the sight of a sunset lit up my mind like Light Brite and I was enlightened, or that the sun and moon are my mother and father; but I can't I can only write with any semblance of truth about what contains my simple frame of reference.