Marianne Boruch when he knew nothing.  A leaflooks like this, doesn’t it?  No oneto ask. So came the inventionof the question too, the way all at heart are rhetorical, each leafsuddenly wedded to its shade. When God  knew nothing, it was better, wasn’t it? Not the color blue yet, its deep unto black.  No color at all really, not yet…

On Grace

Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. — Aeschylus