"The sky is blue. Its limpidness is not marred by a single cloud.
(How primitive was the taste of the ancients, since their poets
were always inspired by these senseless, formless, stupidly rushing
accumulations of vapor!) I love, I am sure it will not be an error
if I say we
love, only such a sky - a sterile, faultless
sky. On such days the whole universe seems to be moulded of the
same eternal glass, like the Green Wall, and like all our buildings.
On such days one sees their wonderful equations, hitherto unknown.
One sees these equations in everything, even in the most ordinary,