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The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!
--
Lucy Gray, or Solitude, st. 2 (1799).

 

William Wordsworth

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Roses red and violets blew,
And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.

 

Edmund Spenser

 

“O star on the breast of the river!
O marvel of bloom and grace!
Did you fall right down from heaven,
Out of the sweetest place?
You are white as the thoughts of an angel,
Your heart is steeped in the sun;
Did you grow in the Golden City,
My pure and radiant one?”

“Nay, nay, I fell not out of heaven;
None gave me my saintly white;
It slowly grew from the darkness,
Down in the dreary night.
From the ooze of the silent river,
I win my glory and grace,
White souls fall not, O my poet,
They rise to the sweetest place.”

 

Mary Butts

 

We forget to even see that there is something more than just us, that “we,” or “I,” an individual, is not the only thing in this whole universe. Your goodness, your badness, your deeds, what’s right for you and what’s wrong for you, and what’s beautiful and what’s not beautiful, what’s happy, what’s sad, and all these ideas--that’s not all. We forget that there is an incredible creation that surrounds us. And we have to open up to that creation. Obviously we want peace in our life. That’s what we’re trying to pursue. But there is this door and this door is locked. Without a key it will not open up. Beyond this door lies Knowledge. Beyond this door lies Love.

 

Maharaji (Prem Rawat)

 

Being an immigrant myself, I have something of an insight, I think, into the way Clark’s mind works. I was born in England, and I am proud of my English heritage (I was also quite a lot older than Kal-El when I left “home,” so my connections would be stronger) but I grew up in Canada and I have lived for the last 25 years in the US, and I don’t ever—ever—feel like a “displaced Englishman.”

Clark would be proud, too, of his Kryptonian heritage, but later portrayals of him have tried to shoehorn in too much of the pychobabble of adopted children longing for and seeking out their biological parents. Excuse my French, but to me, they fall under the heading of “ungrateful little sh*ts.”

Clark grew up as human, thinks as a human, reacts as a human. He lives and loves as a human. And that is what really defines him. (2005)

 

John Byrne

 

I do, indeed, close my door at times and surrender myself to a book, but only because I can open the door again and see a human face looking at me.

 

Martin Buber