I climbed up to a hole in the bank in a hill above the sea, and there fell into the attitude of listening out of which poems may rise — not to the sound of the sea but to the unheard sound of which poems are translations — it was then that I first endured that intense effort of listening, like a man chained to the ground trying to stand upright and walk — and from this intensity of listening the words emerged —
I really like this because in my reading, the subject has been "seeing" (and then putting into words) so the notion of "listening" resonates nicely.
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