"'There is nothing, no, no, never nothing,
Like the clashed edges of two words that kill.'
And so I mocked her in magnificent measure.
Or was it that I mocked myself alone?
I wish that I might be a thinking stone.
The sea of spuming thought foists up again.
The radiant bubble that she was. And then
A deep un-pouring from saltier well
Within me, bursts its watery syllable."
from "Le Monocle de Mon Oncle" by Wallace Stevens