— Robert Penn Warren American poet, novelist, and literary critic 1905 - 1989
Context: I cannot recall what I started to tell you, but at least
I can say how night-long I have lain under the stars and
Heard mountains moan in their sleep. By daylight,
They remember nothing, and go about their lawful occasions
Of not going anywhere except in slow disintegration. At night
They remember, however, that there is something they cannot remember.
So moan. Their's is the perfected pain of conscience that
Of forgetting the crime, and I hope you have not suffered it. I have.
"A Way to Love God", New and Selected Poems 1923–1985 (1985)