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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:
Apologia Pro Vita Sua (1800)
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The poet in his lone yet genial hour
Gives to his eyes a magnifying power:
Or rather he emancipates his eyes
From the black shapeless accidents of size--
In unctuous cones of kindling coal,
Or smoke upwreathing from the pipe's trim bole,
His gifted ken can see
Phantoms of sublimity.