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Two, briefly:

"A blindness unknown to itself might as well be vision / So I opened the door that had been my shield and walked out / Into the coils of wind and blurs of tattooed light / That marred the ground. The day lay cold upon my skin. / "Out of my way, " I said to whatever was waiting, "Out of my way." / In a trice the purple thunder drew back, the tulip dropped / Its petals, the path was clear. I headed West, over the Great / Divide, and down through canyons into an endless valley. / Oh my. I had stepped into a mode I wasn't prepared for. / I was happy. The air was pure, the houses were vacant, / and not one of the fields was ploughed. That's what I loved."--Mark Strand's "Somewhere Else"

And these last lines from Milton's "Paradise Lost"--

"The world was all before them, where to choose / Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: / They hand in hand with wand'ring steps and slow, / Through Eden took their solitary way."