"In my poems and prose my support has been the remembered detail. Not an 'impression' and not an 'experience'; these are so multilayered and so difficult to translate into language that various methods have been discovered in the attempt to grasp them: speech that imitates the "stream of consciousness" even to the point of eliminating punctuation marks, of becoming verbal magma, mere babbling. The remembered detail, for example, the grain of the wood of a door handle polished by the touch of many hands deserved, in my opinion, to be separated from the chaos of impressions and experiences, to be cleansed in some way, so that all that remained would be the eye disinterestedly contemplating the given object." - Cszelaw Milosz, The Garden of Knowledge, Beginning with My Streets