✦Other Textual Excerpts✦

Excerpts from "The Didascalicon of Hugh of St. Victor" by Hugh of St. Victor

The excerpts presented below emphasize poetic knowledge as an intuitive, sensory-based mode of apprehension, aligned with medieval scholastic traditions. They highlight the role of senses, imagination, delight, and nature in education, underscoring a formation that begins with wonder through contact with the natural world and progresses to higher wisdom. Surrounding contexts illustrate applications to stories, adventure, and experiential learning, relevant to the contemporary adaptation of this approach in schools promoting narrative immersion and natural exploration. Each excerpt includes page references, a brief summary, and annotations linking to the project's focus on poetic, sense-driven education.

1. Book One, Chapter One: Concerning the Origin of the Arts (Pages 60–61)

Contextual Summary: Hugh describes the soul's capacity to comprehend through sensory engagement and intellectual ascent, portraying knowledge as originating from wonder at creation. This foundational text surrounds poetic knowledge with the idea of self-recognition via sensory similitudes, akin to education through natural contact and imaginative reflection.

"Of all things to be sought, the first is that Wisdom in which the Form of the Perfect Good stands fixed. Wisdom illuminates man so that he may recognize himself; for man was like all the other animals when he did not understand that he had been created of a higher order than they. But his immortal mind, illuminated by Wisdom, beholds its own principle and recognizes how unfitting it is for it to seek anything outside itself when what it is in itself can be enough for it. It is written on the tripod of Apollo: γνῶθι σεαυτόν, that is, 'Know thyself,' for surely, if man had not forgotten his origin, he would recognize that everything subject to change is nothing.

An opinion approved among philosophers maintains that the soul is put together out of all the parts of nature. And Plato’s Timaeus formed the entelechy out of substance which is 'dividual' and 'individual' and mixed of these two; and likewise out of nature which is 'same' and 'diverse' and a mixture of this pair, by which the universe is defined. For the entelechy grasps 'not only the elements but all things that are made from them,' since, through its understanding, it comprehends the invisible causes of things and, through sense impressions, picks up the visible forms of actual objects. 'Divided, it gathers movement into twin spheres' because, whether it goes out to sensible things through its senses or ascends to invisible things through its understanding, it circles about, drawing to itself the likenesses of things; and thus it is that one and the same mind, having the capacity for all things, is fitted together out of every substance and nature by the fact that it represents within itself their imaged likeness.

Now, it was a Pythagorean teaching that similars are comprehended by similars: so that, in a word, the rational soul could by no means comprehend all things unless it were also composed of all of them; or, as a certain writer puts it:

Earth we grasp with the earthly, fire with flame,
Liquid with moisture, air with our breath.

But we ought not to suppose that men most familiar with all the natures of things thought that simple essence was in any way distended in quantitative parts. Rather, in order to demonstrate the soul’s marvelous power more clearly did they declare that it consists of all natures, 'not as being physically composed of them, but as having an analogous type of composition.'

This, then, is that dignity of our nature which all naturally possess in equal measure, but which all do not equally understand. For the mind, stupefied by bodily sensations and enticed out of itself by sensuous forms, has forgotten what it was, and, because it does not remember that it was anything different, believes that it is nothing except what is seen. But we are restored through instruction, so that we may recognize our nature and learn not to seek outside ourselves what we can find within. 'The highest curative in life,' therefore, is the pursuit of Wisdom: he who finds it is happy, and he who possesses it, blessed."

Annotation: This passage embodies poetic knowledge as a sensory "grasping" of similitudes from nature, fostering wonder and self-restoration. It promotes education through stories and natural adventure by emphasizing sensory immersion as the pathway to wisdom, adaptable today in schools exploring place-based, experiential learning.

2. Book One, Chapter Three: Concerning the Threefold Power of the Soul, and the Fact that Man Alone is Endowed with Reason (Pages 62–64)

Contextual Summary: Hugh delineates the soul's powers—nutritional, sensory, and rational—highlighting how senses provide the foundation for higher inquiry. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the idea of education starting from sensory delight in nature, progressing to reasoned understanding, mirroring modern applications in narrative-driven, outdoor education.

"Altogether, the power of the soul in vivifying bodies is discovered to be of three kinds: one kind supplies life to the body alone in order that, on being born, the body may grow and, by being nourished, may remain in existence; another provides the judgment of sense perception; a third rests upon the power of mind and reason.

Of the first, the function is to attend to the forming, nourishing, and sustaining of bodies; its function is not, however, to bestow upon them the judgment either of sense perception or of reason. It is the vivifying force seen at work in grasses and trees and whatever is rooted firmly in the earth.

The second is a composite and conjoint power which subsumes the first and makes it part of itself, and which exercises judgment of several different kinds upon such objects as it can compass; for every animal endowed with sense perception is likewise born, nourished, and sustained; but the senses it possesses are diverse and are found up to five in number. Thus, whatever receives nutriment only, does not also have sense perception; but whatever has sense perception does also receive nutriment, and this fact proves that to such a being the first vivifying power of the soul, that of conferring birth and nourishment, also belongs. Moreover, such beings as possess sense perception not only apprehend the forms of things that affect them while the sensible body is present, but even after the sense perception has ceased and the sensible objects are removed, they retain images of the sense-perceived forms and build up memory of them. Each animal retains these images more or less enduringly, according to its ability. However, they possess them in a confused and unclear manner, so that they can achieve nothing from joining or combining them, and, while they are therefore able to remember them all, they cannot do so with equal distinctness; and, having once forgotten them, they are unable to recollect or re-evoke them. As to the future, they have no knowledge of it.

But the third power of the soul appropriates the prior nutritional and sense-perceiving powers, using them, so to speak, as its domestics and servants. It is rooted entirely in the reason, and it exercises itself either in the most unfaltering grasp of things present, or in the understanding of things absent, or in the investigation of things unknown. This power belongs to humankind alone. It not only takes in sense impressions and images which are perfect and well founded, but, by a complete act of the understanding, it explains and confirms what imagination has only suggested. And, as has been said, this divine nature is not content with the knowledge of those things alone which it perceives spread before its senses, but, in addition, it is able to provide even for things removed from it names which imagination has conceived from the sensible world, and it makes known, by arrangements of words, what it has grasped by reason of its understanding. For it belongs to this nature, too, that by things already known to it, it should seek after things not known, and it requires to know of each thing not only whether it exists, but of what nature it is, and of what properties, and even for what purpose.

To repeat, this threefold power of soul is the exclusive endowment of human nature, whose power of soul is not lacking in the movements of understanding. By this power it exercises its faculty of reason properly upon the following four heads: either it inquires whether a thing exists, or, if it has established that it does, it searches out the thing’s nature; but if it possesses reasoned knowledge of both these things, it investigates the properties of each object, and sifts the total import of all other accidents; and knowing all these things, it nevertheless further inquires and searches rationally why the object exists as it does.

While the mind of man, then, so acts that it is always concerned with the apprehension of things before it or the understanding of things not present to it or the investigation and discovery of things unknown, there are two matters upon which the power of the reasoning soul spends every effort: one is that it may know the natures of things by the method of inquiry; but the other is that there may first come to its knowledge those things which moral earnestness will thereafter transform into action."

Annotation: This delineates sense knowledge as the gateway to rational inquiry, promoting education through natural world contact and adventure. It resonates with contemporary schools adapting poetic modes, where sensory experiences (e.g., stories of creation) foster wonder and moral formation in unique contexts.

3. Book One, Chapter Ten: Concerning the Threefold Understanding that Arises from the Reading of Sacred Scripture (Page 78–79)

Contextual Summary: Hugh explains the soul's degeneration through senses but ascent via understanding, tying poetic knowledge to meditative return from sensory distraction. This supports education emphasizing stories and natural immersion as paths to spiritual restoration.

"In different respects, therefore, the same thing is at the same time intellectible and intelligible—intellectible in being by nature incorporeal and imperceptible to any of the senses; intelligible in being a likeness of sensible things, but not itself a sensible thing. For the intellectible is neither a sensible thing nor a likeness of sensible things. The intelligible, however, is itself perceived by intellect alone, yet does not itself perceive only by means of intellect. It has imagination and the senses, and by these lays hold upon all things subject to sense. Through contact with physical objects it degenerates, because, while through sense impressions it rushes out toward the visible forms of bodies and, having made contact with them, draws them into itself through imagination, it is cut away from its simplicity each time it is penetrated by any qualities entering through hostile sense experience. But when, mounting from such distraction toward pure understanding, it gathers itself into one, it becomes more blessed through participating in intellectible substance.

Number itself teaches us the nature of the going out and the return of the soul. Consider: Three times one makes three; three times three, nine; three times nine, twenty-seven; and three times twenty-seven, eighty-one. See how in the fourth multiplication the original 'one,' or unity, recurs; and you would see the same thing happen even if you were to carry the multiplication out towards infinity: always, at every fourth stage of the process, the number 'one' recurs. Now the soul’s simple essence is most appropriately expressed by 'one,' which itself is also incorporeal. And the number 'three' likewise, because of the 'one' which is its indivisible constituent link, is fittingly referred to the soul, just as the number 'four,' because it has two constituent links and is therefore divisible, belongs, properly speaking, to the body.

The first progression of the soul, therefore, is that by which from its simple essence, symbolized by the monad, it extends itself into a virtual threeness, in which it desires one thing through concupiscence, detests another through wrath, and judges between these two through reason. And we rightly say it flows from the monad into threeness, because every essence is by nature prior to its powers. Again, the fact that the same 'one' is found in the number 'three,' being multiplied in it three times, signifies that the soul is not distributed into parts but consists wholly in each of its powers: for we may not say that reason alone, or wrath alone, or concupiscence alone are each a third part of the soul, since reason is neither other than nor less than the soul in substance, and wrath is neither other than nor less than the soul, and concupiscence is neither other than nor less than the soul; but on the contrary, the soul, as one and the same substance, receives different names according to its different powers.

Next, the soul, from its being virtually threefold, steps down by a second progression to controlling the music of the human body, which music is constituted in the number 'nine', since nine are the openings in the human body by which, according to natural adjustment, everything by which the body is nourished and kept in balance flows in or out. And this is the order (which obtains between these first two progressions) because the soul by nature possesses its powers before it is compounded with the body.

Subsequently, however, in a third progression, the soul, having poured itself out through the senses upon all visible things—which demand its supervision and which are symbolized by 'twenty-seven,' a cube number, extended tri-dimensionally after the manner of body—is dissipated in countless actions.

But finally, in a fourth progression, the soul, freed from the body, returns to the pureness of its simplicity, and therefore in the fourth multiplication, in which three times twenty-seven makes eighty-one, the number 'one' reappears in the arithmetical product in order that it may be glowingly evident that the soul, after this life’s end, designated by 'eighty,' returns to the unity of its simple state, from which it had previously departed when it descended to rule a human body. That the number 'one' recurs in the fourth multiplication, moreover, signifies that the soul, after the course of this life, which is designated by the number 'eighty,' returns to the unity of its simple state."

Annotation: The soul's "pouring out" through senses and return via meditation illustrates poetic knowledge as sensory adventure leading to wisdom. This informs modern schools' adaptive practices, where natural world contact and stories facilitate unique, place-based restorations of innocence.

4. Book Three, Chapter Seventeen: On Scrutiny (Page 113)

Contextual Summary: Hugh stresses meditation (scrutiny) as practical inquiry, linking it to eagerness for knowledge. This surrounds poetic knowledge with disciplined reflection on sensory experiences, promoting education through contemplative stories and natural exploration.

"Now, scrutiny, that is, meditation, has to do with practice. Yet it seems that scrutiny belongs under eagerness to inquire, and if this is true, we are here repeating ourselves needlessly. Consider, then, how much these men loved wisdom when not even decrepit age could call them away from its quest.

The greatness of that love of wisdom, therefore, and the abundance of judgment in elderly men is aptly inferred from the interpretation of that very name 'Abisag' which I mentioned above. 'For ‘Abisag’ means ‘father mine, superabounding’ or again ‘my father’s deep-voiced cry,’ whence it is most abundantly shown that, with the aged, the thunder of divine discourse tarries beyond human speech. For the word ‘superabounding’ here signifies fulness, not redundance. And indeed, ‘Sunamitess’ in our language means ‘scarlet woman,’ an expression which can aptly enough signify zeal for wisdom."

Annotation: Meditation as scrutiny encourages wonder-driven inquiry into nature and stories, aligning with contemporary educational adaptations where schools explore sensory-based adventures to foster moral and intellectual growth in diverse settings.

5. Book Four, Chapter Five: Concerning the Psalms (Page 123)

Contextual Summary: Hugh discusses the poetic structure of Psalms, emphasizing similitudes and symbols. This ties poetic knowledge to scriptural stories, advocating education through narrative and metaphorical adventure in the natural world.

"The Book of Psalms is called the Psalter in Greek, the Nabla in Hebrew, and the Organum, or musical instrument, in Latin. It is called the Psalter in Greek because while one, as prophet, sang at the psaltery or harp, a chorus answered in unison. They commonly group the psalms into five divisions but assemble them in one book. David wrote the psalms, but Esdras afterwards arranged them. 'That all the psalms and the Lamentations of Jeremias and fully all the canticles of the Hebrews are metrical compositions is attested by Jerome, Origen, Josephus, and Eusebius of Caesarea. They resemble the work of the Roman Flaccus or the Greek Pindar, now running to iambics, now brilliantly Sapphic, and falling into trimeter or tetrameter.'

Scripture most clearly teaches that Solomon was called by three names: Jedidiah, or Beloved of the Lord, for the Lord loved him; Coheleth, or Ecclesiastes (the Greek word ecclesiastes names a man who convokes an ecclesia, or assembly, a man whom we should call a preacher, and who speaks not to a particular individual, but to an entire assemblage of people); finally, he is called ‘the Pacific,’ because in his reign peace obtained. He produced books equal in number to his names; the first inscribed Masloth in Hebrew, Parabolae in Greek, Proverbia in Latin, because by means of comparison and similitude it sets forth senses of words and symbols of truth."

Annotation: The metrical, symbolic nature of Psalms exemplifies poetic knowledge through stories and similitudes, supporting schools' use of narrative adventure to engage senses and inspire wonder in today's unique contexts.

6. Appendix B: Concerning Magic and Its Parts (Page 169)

Contextual Summary: Hugh critiques illusions that deceive senses, contrasting with true sensory knowledge. This surrounds poetic knowledge by warning against false wonders, emphasizing authentic natural contact for education.

"Performers of illusions are those who with their demonic art make sport of human senses through imaginative illusions about one thing’s being turned into another.

All in all, therefore, there are eleven parts of magic: under mantiké, five—necromancy, geomancy, hydromancy, aeromancy, and pyromancy; under [false] mathematics, three—soothsaying, augury, and horoscopy; then there are three others—fortunetelling, sorcery, and performing illusions."

Annotation: By distinguishing true sensory engagement from deceptive illusions, this promotes education grounded in genuine natural adventures and stories, adaptable in modern schools to foster discerning wonder.

7. Notes Section: On Senses and Imagination (Pages 204–207, 233–234, 236)

Contextual Summary: Scholarly notes elaborate on senses as bridges to understanding, tying to poetic modes. This provides historical depth for sensory education.

"Twofold in nature, man descends to the world of corporeal objects through his wholly corporeal senses and imagination; he ascends to spiritual objects through the internal operation of his purely spiritual reason. When the reason turns 'below' to examine sense impressions (imaginationes) critically, it is 'informed' though clouded over by them, and the result is knowledge; when it turns 'upward' toward spiritual objects and God, it operates with the concurrent aid of divine inspiration and revelation and is 'illuminated' with 'understanding.' (Page 204)

Gregory's Moralium libri, sive expositio in librum Job is an example of scriptural commentary with conspicuous moral orientation. Treating first the historical and allegorical senses of a passage, it culminates in exposition of the moral sense. (Page 233)

Treating first the historical and allegorical senses of a passage, it culminates in exposition of the moral sense. (Page 234)

As Augustine reasons on the utility of tropes and figures in Scripture, De doctrina christiana II.vii.8 (PL, XXXIV, 39). (Page 236)"

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Excerpts from "The Long Loneliness" by Dorothy Day

The excerpts selected below emphasize themes of poetic knowledge as embodied in communal living, contact with nature, and experiential formation through stories and adventures. They illustrate Day's reflections on back-to-the-land efforts, where sensory engagement with the earth fosters wonder, resilience, and spiritual growth. Surrounding contexts highlight applications in Catholic Worker farms, aligning with contemporary adaptations in schools promoting narrative-driven, place-based education. Each includes page references, a summary, and annotations for relevance.

1. Part II: Natural Happiness – Reflections on Farm Life and Community (Pages 182–184)

Contextual Summary: Day discusses Ade Bethune's contributions to Catholic Worker farms, emphasizing a philosophy of work rooted in sensory and creative engagement with nature. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the idea of manual labor as co-creation, fostering communal bonds through shared stories of poverty and nobility.

"Ade not only drew for our paper—she allowed her work to be copied by\npapers all over the world, Catholic and non-Catholic. We saw reproductions\nof her woodcuts in Japanese papers, Portuguese papers, Indian papers, to\nmention but a few.\n\nBefore she was mid-twenty she had designed and with unemployed\nsteelworkers helped build a church in the outskirts of Pittsburgh. She made\nthe stained-glass windows in the Church of the Precious Blood in Brooklyn\nand recently finished mosaics in a church in the Philippines. In addition to\nher work of painting, carving, et cetera, she edits a Catholic art quarterly\nand is a trustee of St. Benedict’s farm in Massachusetts, one of the Catholic\nWorker centers.\n\nOn that farm where four families live, one family is made up of seven\nboys, a father who must go out to work and a mother who has been\nhospitalized for some years. Ade and her mother have helped this family, as\nthey have helped a number of others in many ways. Not only money and\nclothes but hard manual labor made up their contributions. Every week a\nbundle of clothes was sent—and this went on for years—to the Baronne de\nBethune in Newport, and she washed, ironed and mended these clothes and\nsent them back.\n\nIt is wonderful to think of and to write of such good works. Hundreds of\npairs of socks for men on our breadlines, funds collected—she was always\nthe great lady with special projects into which she drew many others.\n\nI like to speak of her nobility because in her case that is actually what the\nword connotes. We emphasize the “Prince” when referring to Kropotkin\nprecisely because he gave up titles and estates to be with the poor. We can\nrecognize too our own country’s claim to greatness in that here titles are\nnaturally discarded in an attempt to reach the highest principle of human\nbrotherhood.\n\nThe de Bethune family lost much in World War I, but when they came\nhere their philosophy of work was so vital that they made what Eric Gill\ncalled a cell of good living.\n\nIt is amazing how quickly one can gather together a family. Steve\nHergenhan came to us from Union Square. He was a German carpenter, a\nskilled workman who after forty years of frugal living had bought himself a\nplot of ground near Suffern, New York, and had proceeded to build on it,\nusing much of the natural rock in the neighborhood. He built his house on a\nhillside and used to ski down to the village to get groceries. He did not like\ncars and would not have one. He thought that cars were driving people to\ntheir ruin. Workers bought cars who should buy homes, he said, and they\naccepted second slavery and indebtedness for the sake of the\nbright new shining cars that speeded along the super highways. Maybe he\nrefused to pay taxes for the roads that accommodated the cars. Maybe he\nwas unable to. At any rate, he lost his little house on the side of the hill and\nended up in New York, on a park bench, telling his\ngrievances to all who would listen, and eating and sleeping in the Municipal\nLodging House, which then maintained the largest dormitory in the world,\nseven hundred double-decker beds.\n\nPeter loved the articulate, and after having one of his “round-table\ndiscussions” with Steve in Union Square, he invited him to come and stay\nwith us. The technique of the Square then was for two people to have a\ndiscussion together with no one interrupting until he was given permission\nby one of the two speakers, who might cede “the floor” to another.\n\nBoth Peter and Steve were agreed on a philosophy of work and the evils\nof the machine—they followed the writings of the distributists of England\nand the Southern agrarians in this country. But Steve differed from Peter on\nworks of mercy. He declaimed loudly with St. Paul, “He who does not\nwork, neither let him eat.” And no physical or mental disability won his\npity. Men were either workers or shirkers. It was the conflict between the\nworker and scholar that Peter was always talking about. Steve considered\nhimself both a worker and a scholar."

Annotation: This passage evokes poetic knowledge through sensory immersion in manual labor and nature, portraying farms as sites of adventure and communal storytelling. It aligns with modern schools adapting distributist ideals, where shared experiences in unique places cultivate wonder and human dignity.

2. Part III: Love is the Measure – Migrant Camps and Poverty (Pages 201–202)

Contextual Summary: Day describes the desolation of migrant camps, emphasizing courage amid suffering. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the narrative of human resilience through contact with the harsh natural world, fostering empathy and spiritual insight.

"The problem did not really become acute until the family entered in. The\nfamily thought Peter’s farming commune idea was solely for them. The\nscholars thought the agronomic university idea was for them. The sick and\nunemployed thought the Catholic Worker farms in general were for women\nand children and the helpless.\n\nWe all wrote a great deal about it in the paper and found interest in the\nmost unlikely places. When I went to visit Tom Mooney, the labor leader\nwho was imprisoned for twenty years for the Preparedness Day bombing in\nSan Francisco, I found him and other prisoners in San Quentin interested in\nthe land. Ramsey, King and Connor—I do not remember their first names—\nwere officials of the Marine Firemen’s Union who had also been\nimprisoned, as all the labor movement believed, on a framed charge of\nmurder. I saw them too at that time and found them interested in the land.\n\n“There’s never a seaman wants to settle in the city,” one of them said.\n“What they want is a little chicken farm of their own.”\n\nThe desire was strong for private property, but even stronger for\ncommunity. Man is not made to live alone. We all recognized that truth. But"

Annotation: Day's account of migrant adventures in nature's adversity reflects poetic knowledge as sensory encounter with poverty's stories, inspiring contemporary educational adaptations where farms serve as sites for wonder-infused communal learning.

3. Part III: Love is the Measure – Philosophy of Work and Farms (Pages 215–217)

Contextual Summary: Day articulates Peter's vision of work as co-creation, critiquing machines and advocating farms for dignity. This ties poetic knowledge to experiential labor in nature, surrounding it with narratives of community and voluntary poverty.

"Peter’s Christian philosophy of work was this. God is our creator. God\nmade us in His image and likeness. Therefore we are creators. He gave us a\ngarden to till and cultivate. We become co-creators by our responsible acts,\nwhether in bringing forth children, or producing food, furniture or clothing.\nThe joy of creativeness should be ours.\n\nBut because of the Fall the curse is laid on us of having to earn our bread\nby the sweat of our brows, in labor. St. Paul said that since the Fall nature\nitself travaileth and groaneth. So man had to contend with fallen nature in\nthe beasts and in the earth as well as in himself. But when he overcomes the\nobstacles, he obtains again to the joy of creativity. Work is not then all pain\nand drudgery.\n\nAll of us know these things instinctively, like Tom Sawyer whose\nexample led others to covet his whitewashing job—or the workman, healthy\ntired, after a good day’s toil, like Levin reaping with the peasants in Anna\nKarenina.\n\nCraftsmen, not assembly-line workers, know this physical, but not\nnervous, fatigue and the joy of rest after labor. Peter was never a craftsman\nbut he was an unskilled laborer who knew how to use an ax, a pick and a\nshovel, how to break rocks and mend roads.\n\nPeter and his slogans! “Fire the bosses” meant “Call no man master, for\nall ye are brothers.” It meant “Bear ye one another’s burdens.”\n\n“Eat what you raise and raise what you eat” meant that you ate the things\nindigenous to the New York climate, such as tomatoes, not oranges; honey,\nnot sugar; etc. We used to tease him because he drank coffee, chocolate or\ntea, but “he ate what was set before him.” Had he been a young husband\nraising a family he would have done without tea, or coffee, as indeed such a\ndisciple as Larry Heaney did. Larry was in charge of the Holy Family\nHouse in Milwaukee until he married and was able with another Catholic\nWorker family to buy a fine farm in Missouri.\n\nPeter liked to talk about the four-hour day. Four hours for work, four\nhours for study and discussion; but he didn’t practice it. Knowing that\npeople could not fit into neat categories he would seize upon them\nwhenever he could for discussion and indoctrination.\n\nEveryone, of course, wished to indoctrinate. They no sooner had a\nmessage than they wished to give it. Ideas which burst upon them like a"

Annotation: Peter's philosophy embodies poetic knowledge through sensory creativity in farming, portraying adventure in overcoming nature's challenges. This supports modern schools' unique adaptations, where story-infused labor restores wonder and human purpose.

4. Part III: Love is the Measure – Farm Ventures and Conflicts (Pages 219–221)

Contextual Summary: Day recounts specific Catholic Worker farms, highlighting failures and resilience. This surrounds poetic knowledge with narratives of communal adventure in nature, emphasizing sensory learning through trial and error.

"The Detroit farm was given for our use by a priest’s father who lost one\nson during the war and bore the suffering of his priest son’s life for four\nyears in a concentration camp. St. Benedict’s farm, at S. Lyon, Michigan, is\nrun for the benefit of the men who live at St. Francis House in Detroit.\nProduce is raised there, and the hundred acres provide living quarters for a\nnumber of the men. There is also Marybrook, a retreat house farm for week-\nend groups of students and workers.\n\nOur Lady of the Wayside farm in Avon, Ohio, was given to us also, and\nBill Gauchat, his wife and their five children share the land and the\nbuildings with another Catholic Worker couple and their children, a\nMexican family, and others who fall by the wayside and need help. They\nhave sheltered unmarried girls who were having babies, have cared for sick\nchildren, taken in migrant families until they found work and homes, and\nwith the most limited space and facilities have had summer schools and\nSunday conferences for the readers of The Catholic Worker in that area.\n\nSt. Benedict’s farm at Upton, Massachusetts, was a bargain. We paid a\nthousand dollars for one hundred acres and an old farmhouse which was big\nenough to shelter many visitors as well as the families and single people\nwho built it up. It got off to a bad start, with two young men in charge, one\nof whom wished to have a farming commune and the other a house of\nhospitality on the land. The farming commune idea won out; then with the\nfirst two families there was another conflict over the division of labor. Both\nmen were hard workers. One of them wanted to farm and let the other work\nin a neighboring institution to raise the cash needed for seed and tools. The\none who worked outside St. Benedict’s thought that both should share this\nresponsibility. The man who remained moved not much later for\njob and health considerations, turning over the house which he had built out\nof an abandoned schoolhouse to a father and seven sons who have\nlived there for the last ten years.\n\nThere are three other families on St. Benedict’s now and twenty-five\nchildren. The second to settle at Upton was a mother whose artist husband\nwas imprisoned as a conscientious objector during World War II. She had\nher baby while her husband was in prison and returned to her one-room\nfarm-home to wait patiently for his release some years later. The husband is\na fine craftsman. Since his release he has received many a commission for\nstained glass so that he has been able to employ others on the farm to help\nhim. There are four children in that family now. The chap who returned to\nthe city then came back to the farm, where he now lives with his wife and\neight children. Another family in the village of Upton was burned out, and\ncame to live in the original farmhouse, now used for guests. They have"

Annotation: The stories of farm conflicts and perseverance reflect poetic knowledge as sensory adventure in community, informing today's schools in exploring place-specific adaptations for wonder-based formation.

5. Part III: Love is the Measure – Tamar's Education and Wedding (Pages 224–229)

Contextual Summary: Day details her daughter's experiential education in crafts and farming, culminating in a wedding on the farm. This surrounds poetic knowledge with narratives of sensory learning through nature and community, emphasizing wonder in daily adventures.

"She accepted the school, though she only stayed for the winter term and\nthen returned to Easton to live at Mary-farm for the spring and summer. I\nhad to go to the West Coast for a few months that spring to visit our\n\nWhen I left Tamar that afternoon and went back to Montreal, I never was\nso unhappy, never felt so great a sense of loneliness. She was growing up,\nshe was growing up to be married. It did not seem possible. I was always\nhaving to be parted from her. No matter how many times I gave up mother,\nfather, husband, brother, daughter, for His sake, I had to do it over again.\n\nShe enjoyed the school, though she only stayed for the winter term and\nthen returned to Easton to live at Mary-farm for the spring and summer. I\nhad to go to the West Coast for a few months that spring to visit our houses\nof hospitality there. When I returned I found she was in love, this time most\nseriously, and determined to marry.\n\nShe was not yet seventeen, so in order to continue her schooling I sent\nher to the home of Ade Bethune in Newport, where she worked not only\nwith Ade’s apprentices, but in her household. She learned to shop\nintelligently (it was a time of ration books), to buy and cook cheap cuts of\nmeat, to bake and churn, keep a kitchen fire going, care for small animals in\na back yard—rabbits, chickens, even white rats and canaries. She learned\ncalligraphy and how to bind a book. There were evenings when one of the\nmonks from a Benedictine priory near by gave talks on philosophy and\ntheology; there were concerts of chamber music at friends’ houses, folk\ndancing on Friday nights, evenings at the marine hospital teaching crafts to\nwounded sailors. How to take care of the money you earned, how to earn\nmoney by caring for children, sitting with invalids, taking part in group\ndiscussions on the land, on the worker—these too she learned.\n\nWhen she had spent her year at Ade’s, she went for another six months to\na school of applied agriculture on Long Island. She would have stayed\nlonger except that her eighteenth birthday came around and she and the\nyoung man she loved announced that they would be married as soon as the\nthree Sundays elapsed for the calling of the bans at Sunday Mass.\n\nWhat a wedding that was! The wedding breakfast was to take place at the\nEaston farm and Tamar and I spent days beforehand cleaning and scrubbing\nuntil it was hard to get the grime out of our hands. It was a wedding in\npoverty because the young people were to start out in a barracks-like house\non the farm, surrounded by a three-acre garden. The house had been\noccupied previously by a migrant family who left it in anything but\nappetizing condition. The day before the wedding some homeless dogs\nkilled Tamar’s pet goat, leaving two orphan kids, and that tragedy and her\ncare for the little animals cast a shadow on the great event.\n\nIt was during the war; there were few volunteers with us, most of the\nyoung men were away, and Easton was two hours out of New York. It was a\nmid-week wedding, so there were not more than a score of guests. Of\ncourse Peter was there, thoughtful and happy.\n\n“He is going to make a speech at my wedding breakfast,” Tamar said\nnervously, remembering all the other occasions when Peter delighted in the\nopportunity to indoctrinate. At the wedding of one of our fellow workers in\nNew York a few years previous Peter had talked so long to the first sitting at\nthe wedding breakfast that the second sitting of our guests in the house of\nhospitality had a hard time getting anything to eat. Perhaps Tamar was\nthinking too of the way Peter stood over her bed when she had measles and\nindoctrinated the physician.\n\nThe nuptial Mass was at nine o’clock and it being wartime there was only\none car to transport the guests to and from the church. I had to be chauffeur\nsince there was no one else with a license to drive. We got up at six to heat\nwater for bathing (it was a typical old farmhouse with no plumbing) and to"

Annotation: Tamar's craft-based education through nature and community exemplifies poetic knowledge as sensory adventure, guiding today's schools in unique, history-rhyming adaptations for wonder through stories and land.

6. Part III: Love is the Measure – Retreat Houses and Farms (Pages 244–248)

Contextual Summary: Day describes farm retreats as oases for reflection, tying to sensory restoration through nature. This surrounds poetic knowledge with stories of communal healing amid poverty.

"family, the heresy of the priesthood of the laity, the heresy of the relations\nof men and women.\n\nWe had said the family was the primary unit of society so Victor wished\nall the work of The Catholic Worker to center around the family. The funds\nshould not be used to feed the poor, but to re-establish the family on the\nland. The man was the head of the house and he emphasized the priesthood\nof the laity. He made another layman the spiritual adviser of the little\ncommunity setup and this man imposed penances and insisted on strict\nobedience. His attitude toward women was that the men were to sit like\njudges at the gates and the women were to be the valiant women of the Old\nTestament, hewers of wood and drawers of water, tillers of the field, and\nclothers of the family. This position was carried to such an extreme on the\nupper farm that the women were forbidden to speak unless spoken to, and\nwere compelled to knock on the doors of even their own kitchens and\ndining rooms if there were men present.\n\nTrying to bear with the situation on the upper farm, we started the retreat\nhouse on the lower farm, and began having retreats every few months.\n\nYoung priests from Pittsburgh, from a Minnesota diocese, and others\nfrom the East came to spend time with us. Often they had heavy parish\nduties and even their vacations were taken up by their own retreats and\nstudy. One from Minnesota flew to New York after Sunday morning Mass,\nbegan giving our retreat Sunday night, ending it Friday night, returning on\nSaturday to hear confessions in his own parish.\n\nThese were priests who said Mass perfectly, prepared their sermons,\n“enlightened their minds, inflamed their hearts” by prayer and spiritual\nreading, and we caught fire from them.\n\nOf course this could not go on. Those who gave us the retreat were given\nin turn chaplaincies of hospitals or other duties which made it impossible\nfor them to get away. For the last few years, we have not been able to obtain\nmore than one or two priests who could give the course of instruction as\noutlined by Father Lacouture and Father Hugo. But retreats, given by other\npriests, go on.\n\nWe did not remain at the Easton farm. Life there became too difficult. I\nhave always felt that we had to be most careful about the articles which we\nprinted in the paper. Once when I looked out the farmhouse window during"

Annotation: Farms as retreat oases embody poetic knowledge through sensory peace in nature, supporting adaptive educational practices where stories of poverty foster wonder and communal transformation.

7. Postscript – The Power of Community (Page 267)

Contextual Summary: Day concludes with reflections on loneliness and community as solutions, rooted in shared living on farms. This ties poetic knowledge to narratives of love through natural, adventurous companionship.

"POSTSCRIPT\n\n□ We were just sitting there talking when Peter Maurin came in.\n\nWe were just sitting there talking when lines of people began to form,\nsaying, “We need bread.” We could not say, “Go, be thou filled.” If there\nwere six small loaves and a few fishes, we had to divide them. There was\nalways bread.\n\nWe were just sitting there talking and people moved in on us. Let those\nwho can take it, take it. Some moved out and that made room for more. And\nsomehow the walls expanded.\n\nWe were just sitting there talking and someone said, “Let’s all go live on\na farm.”\n\nIt was as casual as all that, I often think. It just came about. It just\nhappened.\n\nI found myself, a barren woman, the joyful mother of children. It is not\neasy always to be joyful, to keep in mind the duty of delight.\n\nThe most significant thing about The Catholic Worker is poverty, some\nsay.\n\nThe most significant thing is community, others say. We are not alone\nany more.\n\nBut the final word is love. At times it has been, in the words of Father\nZossima, a harsh and dreadful thing, and our very faith in love has been\ntried through fire.\n\nWe cannot love God unless we love each other, and to love we must\nknow each other. We know Him in the breaking of bread, and we know\neach other in the breaking of bread, and we are not alone any more. Heaven\nis a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is\ncompanionship.\n\nWe have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only\nsolution is love and that love comes with community.\n\nIt all happened while we sat there talking, and it is still going on."

Annotation: The postscript captures poetic knowledge as communal adventure in nature's "banquet," echoing modern schools' place-based adaptations where stories of shared poverty restore wonder and connection.

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Excerpts from "The Republic" by Plato (Translated by Benjamin Jowett)

The excerpts below focus on poetic knowledge as manifested in Plato's educational philosophy, particularly the role of myths, poetry, and sensory experiences in forming the soul through wonder and imitation. They emphasize education via stories, adventure, and contact with the natural world, portraying these as foundational for moral and intellectual development. Surrounding contexts illustrate the guardians' training, which begins with narrative immersion to cultivate virtues before rational inquiry. Each excerpt includes approximate section references (based on standard Stephanus pagination and book divisions), a summary, and annotations linking to contemporary adaptations in schools exploring place-based, wonder-infused learning.

1. Book II: The Education of the Guardians Through Myths and Stories (Stephanus 376d–377c; Approximate Pages in Standard Editions: 50–52)

Contextual Summary: Socrates and Adeimantus discuss the initial education of future guardians, advocating myths and stories as tools for soul-shaping. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the idea of narrative as sensory delight, fostering wonder through heroic tales before analytical training.

"Next, then, we must make a systematic study of the education of our women and children. For if the guardians are to be worthy of the name, they must be educated in music and gymnastics.

Certainly.

And in music there is included literature, which has three divisions, poetry, history, and philosophy.

Yes.

Now the first and greatest of necessities is the establishment of guardians for the city?

Yes.

And the first step in the training of guardians is the telling of tales?

Certainly.

What tales?

The same which their mothers told them.

What do you mean?

I mean that the founders have to determine what tales are to be told to the young, and to forbid the bad and sanction the good.

Yes; but what are the good and what are the bad?

The good are those which tend to produce in the hearers a hatred of vice and a love of virtue.

Yes.

And the bad are the opposite.

Yes.

And the founders will have a far greater care in the selection of these tales than in anything else; for the young cannot distinguish what is allegorical from what is not, and the beliefs which they acquire at that age are hard to erase and usually remain unchanged.

That is very true.

First, then, we must supervise the makers of tales; and if they make a fine tale, it must be approved, but if not, it must be rejected. We will persuade nurses and mothers to tell the approved tales to their children and to shape their souls with tales more than their bodies with hands. Many of those which they now tell must be thrown out.

What kinds do you mean?

In the tales which are told to children there are false representations of the gods.

Yes.

For instance, the tale of Uranus and his deeds against his father Cronos; or Cronos against his children. Such tales are not to be told.

No.

Nor tales of the wars of the gods, nor of their enmities, nor of their plots against one another; for they are not true.

No.

Nor must we allow tales of the bindings of Hera by her son, nor of Hephaestus cast out by his father.

No.

Nor yet of the gods changing themselves into all sorts of forms.

No.

For God is altogether simple and true in deed and word, and neither changes himself nor deceives others.

Yes.

So that the beginning of education is in tales?

Yes; but these are not any chance tales, but those which tend to the improvement of the soul."

Annotation: This passage positions poetic knowledge as sensory initiation through curated myths, akin to adventure stories that attune the soul to virtue. It informs modern schools adapting this approach, where place-specific narratives foster wonder without premature analysis, rhyming with historical methods in contemporary contexts.

2. Book II: The Role of Poetry and Falsehood in Education (Stephanus 377d–378e; Approximate Pages: 52–54)

Contextual Summary: Plato critiques harmful poetry while endorsing "noble lies" or myths for moral formation. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the selective use of stories to instill truth through imaginative, sense-based experiences.

"And what shall we say of the poets? Must we not compel them to impress the image of the good upon their poems, or not allow them to write at all?

Certainly.

And if they write, they must write in accordance with the patterns which we prescribe.

Yes.

Now, the tales which are told to children must be, on the whole, the expression of our theology.

Yes.

And God must always be represented as he is.

Yes.

And he is good, and does good.

Certainly.

And no good thing is hurtful.

No.

And that which is not hurtful does no evil.

No.

And that which does no evil is not a cause of evil.

No.

And the good is beneficent.

Yes.

And therefore the cause of well-being.

Yes.

Then God, being good, is not the author of all things, as the many say, but only of some things; of others he is not the author.

Yes.

For the evil things are far more numerous than the good.

Yes.

And we must not say that God is the author of evil.

No.

Then we must not accept Homer's or any other poet's account of the gods.

No.

For instance, when he says that Athene and Zeus sent Pandora with her box of evils to men.

No.

Nor the tale of the sorrows of Niobe.

No.

Nor the many other tales of the same sort.

No.

And God must not be represented as a sorcerer who changes his form.

No.

For God is perfect and has no need of change.

Yes.

Nor does he deceive.

No.

For deception is a sign of weakness.

Yes.

Then God is altogether true.

Yes.

And our guardians must be taught to imitate the good.

Yes.

And the tales must lead them to do so.

Yes.

And we must reject the tales which lead them to evil.

Yes."

Annotation: Poetic knowledge here involves sensory delight in "good" myths that shape character through imitation, contrasting false adventures. This supports today's educational explorations, where schools curate stories of nature and heroism to cultivate virtue in unique environments.

3. Book III: Music, Gymnastics, and the Balance of Soul (Stephanus 398d–403c; Approximate Pages: 70–75)

Contextual Summary: Socrates outlines music and gymnastics as sensory trainings for harmony, surrounding poetic knowledge with rhythmic, adventurous physical engagement to temper the soul.

"Then now we are to discuss music.

Yes.

And music includes literature and music proper.

Yes.

And literature is of two kinds, true and false.

Yes.

And education must include both, but first the false.

I do not understand.

I mean that we begin by telling children fables, which are in the main false, but have some truth in them.

Yes.

And we tell fables to children before we give them gymnastics.

Yes.

That is what I mean.

Yes.

And the beginning in every work is the chief thing, especially in the case of anything young and tender.

Yes.

For then especially is the character moulded.

Yes.

And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we wish them to have when they are grown up?

We cannot.

Then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorised ones only. Let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are now in use must be discarded.

Of what tales are you speaking?

You may find a model of the lesser in the greater.

What do you mean?

I mean the tales which Hesiod and Homer tell us about Uranus and Cronos, and the rest of the mythology.

Yes.

These tales must not be admitted into our State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not.

Why not?

Because a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts.

There you are right.

But what are these forms of theology? What tales shall we permit?

Something like this: God is always to be represented as he truly is, whether in epic or lyric or tragic poetry.

Yes.

And he is truly good, and must be so described.

Yes.

And nothing good is hurtful?

No.

And that which is not hurtful harms not?

No.

And that which harms not does no evil?

No.

And that which does no evil is not a cause of evil?

No.

But the good is beneficent?

Yes.

Then the good is the cause of well-being?

Yes.

It follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the good only?

Assuredly.

Then God, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to men. For few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to God alone; of the evils the causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him.

That appears to me to be most true.

Then we must not listen to Homer or to the other poets who are under the insanity.

What do they say?

That the gods are the authors of evil to men.

Yes.

They are not to be believed.

No.

Nor must we admit the other poet who says that Zeus dispenses good and evil to men out of his two urns.

No.

Nor the tale of the binding of Hera by her son.

No.

All these things are hurtful.

Yes.

And we must not allow them in our State.

No."

Annotation: Music and gymnastics as sense-based adventures balance the soul through poetic rhythm, prefiguring higher knowledge. This resonates with modern schools' adaptations, using natural explorations and stories to foster harmony in diverse settings.

4. Book III: The Dangers of Imitation and Poetry (Stephanus 392c–398b; Approximate Pages: 65–69)

Contextual Summary: Plato warns against imitative poetry that deceives senses, advocating controlled narratives. This surrounds poetic knowledge with selective storytelling to guide moral adventure.

"And now we have to consider the styles of literature.

Yes.

Literature may be either true or false.

Yes.

And the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false?

I do not quite understand your meaning.

You forget that we begin the education of our heroes with fables.

Yes.

And fables are in the main false, but there is truth in them as well.

Yes.

And we begin with fables before gymnastics.

That is true.

Then that is what I meant by saying that we must deal with literature before gymnastics.

You are right.

And the beginning of literature is the telling of fables.

Yes.

And what fables shall we select?

We must have a censorship.

Yes.

And the censors will approve any good fable, and reject the bad.

Yes.

And the mothers and nurses will shape the souls of the children by these fables far rather than their bodies by their hands. Many of the present fables they will reject.

Which ones?

In the greater we can see the image of the less.

What do you mean?

The great fable of education, I mean, which is this: that education which is given by fables to children is false in the literal sense, but has in it many important truths.

Yes.

For example, the tale of how the dragon's teeth were sown, and armed men sprang up.

Yes.

That is an example of the way in which we should teach the young by fables.

Yes."

Annotation: Imitative poetry as sensory adventure must be curated to avoid deception, promoting true wonder. This guides contemporary educational practices, where schools adapt myths and nature stories to unique contexts for soul formation.

5. Book VII: The Allegory of the Cave (Stephanus 514a–517a; Approximate Pages: 193–196)

Contextual Summary: The cave allegory depicts education as ascent from sensory shadows to true knowledge, surrounding poetic knowledge with metaphorical adventure in perceiving reality.

"And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened:—Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

I see.

And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.

You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.

Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave?

True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?

And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see the shadows?

Yes, he said.

And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that they were naming what was actually before them?

Very true.

And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?

No question, he replied.

To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the images.

That is certain.

And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,—what will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,—will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now shown to him?

Far truer.

And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him?

True, he said.

And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When he approaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what are now called realities.

Not all in a moment, he said.

He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day?

Certainly.

Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is.

Certainly.

He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to behold?

Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him.

And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them?

Certainly, he would.

And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them?

Would he not say with Homer,

'Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,'

and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their manner?

Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner."

Annotation: The cave allegory represents poetic knowledge as sensory ascent from illusion to truth, through adventurous liberation. This informs adaptive educational practices, where schools use nature and stories to guide wonder in unique, historical-rhyming contexts.

Excerpts from "The Poetics" by Aristotle (Translated by S.H. Butcher)

The following excerpts highlight Aristotle's conception of poetic knowledge as mimesis (imitation), an intuitive, sense-based mode of understanding that evokes emotional catharsis through narrative and rhythm. They emphasize poetry's role in education via stories and dramatic adventures, fostering wonder and moral insight through sensory engagement with human action and nature. Surrounding contexts illustrate poetry as a natural, experiential pathway to truth, adaptable in contemporary schools for place-specific, wonder-driven formation. Page references are approximate based on standard editions.

1. Chapter I: Imitation as the Principle of Poetry (Approximate Pages: 1–3)

Contextual Summary: Aristotle introduces poetry as imitation through rhythm and language, surrounding poetic knowledge with the sensory origins of art, where epic, tragedy, and comedy engage emotions to reveal universals.

"I propose to treat of Poetry in itself and of its various kinds, noting the essential quality of each; to inquire into the structure of the plot as requisite to a good poem; into the number and nature of the parts of which a poem is composed; and similarly into whatever else falls within the same inquiry. Following, then, the order of nature, let us begin with the principles which come first.

Epic poetry and Tragedy, Comedy also and Dithyrambic: poetry, and the music of the flute and of the lyre in most of their forms, are all in their general conception modes of imitation. They differ, however, from one another in three respects,—the medium, the objects, the manner or mode of imitation, being in each case distinct.

For as there are persons who, by conscious art or mere habit, imitate and represent various objects through the medium of colour and form, or again by the voice; so in the arts above mentioned, taken as a whole, the imitation is produced by rhythm, language, or 'harmony,' either singly or combined.

Thus in the music of the flute and of the lyre, 'harmony' and rhythm alone are employed; also in other arts, such as that of the shepherd's pipe, which are essentially similar to these. In dancing, rhythm alone is used without 'harmony'; for even dancing imitates character, emotion, and action, by rhythmical movement.

There is another art which imitates by means of language alone, and that either in prose or verse—which, verse, again, may either combine different metres or consist of but one kind—but this has hitherto been without a name. For there is no common term we could apply to the mimes of Sophron and Xenarchus and the Socratic dialogues on the one hand; and, on the other, to poetic imitations in iambic, elegiac, or any similar metre. People do, indeed, commonly speak of the 'makers' of epic or iambic verse; but the term 'poet' is applied to them not in virtue of the imitative nature of their work, but indifferently in virtue of the metre in which they write. Even when a treatise on medicine or natural science is brought out in verse, the name of poet is by custom given to the author; and yet Homer and Empedocles have nothing in common but the metre, so that it would be right to call the one poet, the other physicist rather than poet. On the same principle, even if a writer in his poetic imitation were to combine all metres, as Chaeremon did in his Centaur, which is a medley composed of metres of all kinds, we should bring him too under the general term poet. So much then for these distinctions.

There are, again, some arts which employ all the means above mentioned, namely, rhythm, tune, and metre. Such are Dithyrambic and Nomic poetry, and also Tragedy and Comedy; but between them the difference is, that in the first two cases these means are all employed in combination, in the latter, now one means is employed, now another.

Such, then, are the differences of the arts with respect to the medium of imitation."

Annotation: This foundational text frames poetic knowledge as sensory imitation of action and emotion, through stories that evoke wonder. It aligns with modern educational adaptations, where schools use rhythmic narratives and natural adventures to initiate intuitive understanding in unique contexts.

2. Chapter IV: The Origin and Development of Poetry (Approximate Pages: 6–8)

Contextual Summary: Aristotle traces poetry's roots to natural imitation and wonder, surrounding poetic knowledge with the instinctive delight in stories of adventure, leading to cathartic learning.

"Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them lying deep in our nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted in man from childhood, one difference between him and other animals being that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and through imitation learns his earliest lessons; and no less universal is the pleasure felt in things imitated. We have evidence of this in the facts of experience. Objects which in themselves we view with pain, we delight to contemplate when reproduced with minute fidelity: such as the forms of the most ignoble animals and of dead bodies. The cause of this again is, that to learn gives the liveliest pleasure, not only to philosophers but to men in general; whose capacity, however, of learning is more limited. Thus the reason why men enjoy seeing a likeness is, that in contemplating it they find themselves learning or inferring, and saying perhaps, 'Ah, that is he.' For if you happen not to have seen the original, the pleasure will be due not to the imitation as such, but to the execution, the colouring, or some such other cause.

Imitation, then, is one instinct of our nature. Next, there is the instinct for 'harmony' and rhythm, metres being manifestly sections of rhythm. Persons, therefore, starting with this natural gift developed by degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude improvisations gave birth to Poetry.

Poetry now diverged in two directions, according to the individual character of the writers. The graver spirits imitated noble actions, and the actions of good men. The more trivial sort imitated the actions of meaner persons, at first composing satires, as the former did hymns to the gods and the praises of famous men. A poem of the satirical kind cannot indeed be put down to any author earlier than Homer; though many such writers probably there were. But from Homer onward there is an example in his Margites and other similar compositions. The appropriate metre was also here introduced; hence the measure is still called the iambic or lampooning measure, being that in which people lampooned one another. Thus the older poets were distinguished as writers of heroic or of lampooning verse.

As, in the serious style, Homer is pre-eminent among poets, for he alone combined dramatic form with excellence of imitation, so he too first laid down the main lines of Comedy, by dramatising the ludicrous instead of writing personal satire. His Margites bears the same relation to Comedy as the Iliad and Odyssey do to Tragedy. But when Tragedy and Comedy came to light, the two classes of poets still followed their natural bent: the lampooners became writers of Comedy, and the Epic poets were succeeded by Tragedians, since the drama was a larger and higher form of art."

Annotation: Poetry's origins in sensory imitation and rhythmic harmony evoke wonder through adventurous narratives, prefiguring intellectual growth. This supports adaptive practices in schools, where natural world contact and stories cultivate poetic insight in diverse, history-rhyming settings.

3. Chapter IX: Poetry as Universal Knowledge (Approximate Pages: 15–16)

Contextual Summary: Aristotle distinguishes poetry from history, positioning it as philosophical imitation of universals through particular stories, surrounding poetic knowledge with emotional catharsis from sensory adventures.

"It is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not the function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen,—what is possible according to the law of probability or necessity. The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose. The work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would still be a species of history, with metre no less than without it. The true difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular. By the universal, I mean how a person of a certain type will on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or necessity; and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names she attaches to the personages. The particular is—for example—what Alcibiades did or suffered. In Comedy this is already apparent: for the poet first constructs the plot on the lines of probability, and then inserts characteristic names;—unlike the lampooners who write about particular individuals. But tragedians still keep to real names, the reason being that what is possible is credible: what has not happened we do not at once feel sure to be possible: but what has happened is evidently possible: otherwise it would not have happened. Still there are even some tragedies in which there are only one or two well known names, the rest being fictitious. In others, none are well known—as in Agathon's Antheus, where incidents and names alike are fictitious, and yet they give none the less pleasure. We must not, therefore, at all costs keep to the received legends, which are the usual subjects of Tragedy. Indeed, it would be absurd to attempt it; for even subjects that are known are known only to a few, and yet give pleasure to all. It clearly follows that the poet or 'maker' should be the maker of plots rather than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates, and what he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to take an historical subject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason why some events that have actually happened should not conform to the law of the probable and possible, and in virtue of that quality in them he is their poet or maker."

Annotation: Poetic knowledge as universal imitation through sensory particulars (stories of action) evokes wonder and catharsis. This resonates with educational adaptations, where schools use adventurous narratives drawn from nature to reveal truths in unique, contemporary places.

4. Chapter XV: Catharsis and Emotional Education (Approximate Pages: 23–24)

Contextual Summary: Aristotle discusses fear and pity in tragedy, surrounding poetic knowledge with emotional purification through narrative adventures, linking sense experience to moral formation.

"The best is to rely on the incidents to produce the effect of astonishment, but next to that is to make use of the 'peripeteia' or 'reversal of fortune,' and the 'anagnorisis' or 'discovery.' A third kind is the pathos or scene of suffering. We have already explained what discoveries and reversals are. The pathos is a destructible or painful action, such as deaths on the stage, bodily agonies, wounds and the like.

The element of character in Tragedy has been already discussed. There are four things to be aimed at in character-drawing. First, and most important, it must be good. Now any speech or action that manifests moral purpose of any kind will be expressive of character: the character will be good if the purpose is good. This rule is relative to each class. Even a woman may be good, and also a slave; though the woman may be said to be an inferior being, and the slave quite worthless. The second thing to aim at is propriety. There is a type of manly valour; but valour in a woman, or unscrupulous cleverness, is inappropriate. Thirdly, character must be true to life: for this is a distinct thing from goodness and propriety, as here described. The fourth point is consistency: for though the subject of the imitation, who suggested the type, be inconsistent, still he must be consistently inconsistent."

Annotation: Catharsis through sensory-emotional engagement in tragic stories purifies the soul, akin to adventures in nature fostering resilience. This informs modern schools' adaptive use of narratives to evoke wonder and virtue in varied contexts.

Excerpts from "The Confessions" by St. Augustine (Translated by E.B. Pusey)

These excerpts focus on Augustine's reflections on sense knowledge, wonder, and divine illumination through creation's stories, portraying poetic knowledge as contemplative ascent from sensory delight to truth. Surrounding contexts emphasize education via natural encounters and narratives to restore the soul. Page references are approximate.

1. Book I: Invocation and Sensory Origins of Knowledge (Approximate Pages: 1–3)

Contextual Summary: Augustine invokes God through wonder at creation, surrounding poetic knowledge with sensory restlessness leading to repose in divine narrative.

"Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher.

And how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since, when I call for Him, I shall be calling Him to myself? and what room is there within me, whither my God can come into me? whither can God come into me, God who made heaven and earth? is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can contain Thee? do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou hast made me, contain Thee? or, because nothing which exists could exist without Thee, doth therefore whatever exists contain Thee? Since, then, I too exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were not, wert Thou not in me? Why? because I am not gone down in hell, and yet Thou art there also. For if I go down into hell, Thou art there. I could not be then, O my God, could not be at all, wert Thou not in me; or, rather, unless I were in Thee, of whom are all things, by whom are all things, in whom are all things? Even so, Lord, even so. Whither do I call Thee, since I am in Thee? or whence canst Thou enter into me? for whither can I go beyond heaven and earth, that thence my God should come into me, who hath said, I fill the heaven and the earth."

Annotation: Sensory wonder at creation's "stories" drives restless seeking, embodying poetic knowledge as intuitive repose. This aligns with adaptive education, where schools use natural adventures to evoke divine insight in unique places.

2. Book II: Youthful Sins and Sensory Deception (Approximate Pages: 25–27)

Contextual Summary: Augustine recounts stealing pears, reflecting on sensory allure leading to moral adventure, surrounding poetic knowledge with the narrative of fallen wonder restored through confession.

"For I stole that, of which I had enough, and much better. Nor cared I to enjoy what I stole, but joyed in the theft and sin itself. A pear tree there was near our vineyard, laden with fruit, tempting neither for colour nor taste. To shake and rob this, some lewd young fellows of us went, late one night (having according to our pestilent custom prolonged our sports in the streets till then), and took huge loads, not for our eating, but to fling to the very hogs, having only tasted them. And this, but to do what we liked only, because it was misliked. Behold my heart, O God, behold my heart, which Thou hadst pity upon in the bottom of the bottomless pit. Now, behold, let my heart tell Thee what it sought there, that I should be gratuitously evil, having no temptation to ill, but the ill itself. It was foul, and I loved it; I loved to perish, I loved mine own fault, not that for which I was faulty, but my fault itself. Foul soul, falling from Thy firmament to utter destruction; not seeking aught through the shame, but the shame itself!

For there is an attractiveness in beautiful bodies, in gold and silver, and all things; in bodily touch, sympathy hath much influence, and each other sense hath his proper object answerably tempered. Worldly honour hath also its grace, and the power of overcoming, and of mastery; whence springs also the thirst of revenge. But yet, to obtain all these, we may not depart from Thee, Lord, nor decline from Thy law. The life also which here we live hath its own enchantment, through a certain proportion of its own, and a correspondence with all things beautiful here below. Human friendship also is endeared with a sweet tie, by reason of the unity formed of many souls. Upon occasion of all these, and the like, is sin committed, while through an immoderate inclination towards these goods of the lowest order, the better and higher are forsaken,—Thou, our Lord God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these lower things have their delights, but not like my God, who made all things; for in Him doth the righteous delight, and He is the joy of the upright in heart."

Annotation: Sensory temptations in youthful adventures (e.g., pear theft) reveal poetic knowledge as narrative reflection on nature's allure, guiding restoration. This supports schools' use of stories from the natural world to explore moral wonder in contemporary adaptations.

3. Book X: Memory, Senses, and Divine Search (Approximate Pages: 150–152)

Contextual Summary: Augustine explores memory as repository of sensory images, surrounding poetic knowledge with contemplative wonder at creation's vastness to find God.

"Great is this force of memory, exceeding great, O my God; a large and boundless chamber! who ever sounded the bottom thereof? yet is this a power of mine, and belongs unto my nature; nor do I myself comprehend all that I am. Therefore is the mind too strait to contain itself. And where should that be, which it containeth not of itself? Is it without it, and not within? how then doth it not comprehend itself? A wonderful admiration surprises me, amazement seizes me upon this. And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tides of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass themselves by; nor wonder that when I spake of all these things, I did not see them with mine eyes, yet could not have spoken of them, unless I then actually saw the mountains, billows, rivers, stars which I had seen, and that ocean which I believe to be, inwardly in my memory, and that, with the same vast spaces between, as if I saw them abroad. Yet did not I by seeing take them into myself, when with mine eyes I beheld them; nor are they themselves with me, but their images only. And I know by what sense of the body each was impressed upon me.

Yet not these alone does the unmeasurable capacity of my memory retain. Here also is all, learnt of the liberal sciences and as yet unforgotten; removed as if in an inner place, which yet is no place: nor are they the images thereof, but the things themselves. For, what is literature, what the skill of disputing, how many kinds of questions there are, whatsoever of these I know, in such manner exists in my memory, as that I have not taken in the image, and left out the thing, or that it should have sounded and passed away like a voice fixed on the ear by that impress, whereby it might be recalled, as if it sounded, when it no longer sounded; or as a smell while it passes and evaporates into air affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys into the memory an image of itself, which remembering, we renew, or as meat, which verily in the belly hath now no taste, and yet in the memory still in a manner tasteth; or as any thing which the body by touch perceiveth, and which when removed from us, the memory still conceives. For those things are not transmitted into the memory, but their images only are with an admirable swiftness caught up, and stored as it were in wondrous cabinets, and thence wonderfully by the act of remembering, brought forth."

Annotation: Memory's sensory vastness evokes poetic wonder at nature's "stories," leading to divine encounter. This parallels adaptive education, where sensory adventures in unique places foster contemplative knowledge.

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Excerpts from "Creative Intuition in Art and Poetry" by Jacques Maritain

The excerpts below are drawn from Chapter Four, titled "Creative Intuition and Poetic Knowledge," as provided in the source material. They focus on Maritain's conceptualization of poetic knowledge as a non-conceptual, connatural intuition rooted in the spiritual preconscious, intertwined with sensory experience and creative activity. Definitions, examples, and discussions of non-conceptual knowledge and sensory intuition are highlighted, with surrounding contexts illustrating their application to art, poetry, and education through stories, adventure, and natural engagement. Annotations link these to the project's emphasis on wonder-based formation, adaptable in contemporary schools. Page numbers are not specified in the source text, so references are to sections within the chapter.

1. At the Single Root of the Soul's Powers (Section 1–2)

Contextual Summary: Maritain, drawing from Thomas Aquinas, describes the emanation of soul powers, positioning poetic intuition at the preconscious root where intellect, imagination, and senses intercommunicate. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the idea of a spiritual unconscious as the source of creative insight, accessed through sensory delight in nature.

"1. In the last chapter, I gave a few indications, general in nature, about the existence in us of a spiritual unconscious or preconscious, specifically distinct from the automatic or Freudian unconscious, though in vital intercommunication and interaction with it. I also suggested that it is in this translucid spiritual night that poetry and poetic inspiration have their primal source. And I referred to the views of Thomas Aquinas on the structure of the intellect and the preconscious intellectual activity on which the birth of ideas depends.

It is once again with some philosophical considerations borrowed from Thomas Aquinas that I shall preface our discussion of creative or poetic intuition. These considerations deal with the manner in which the powers of the soul, through which the various operations of life–biological, sensitive, intellective life–are performed, emanate from the soul. As soon as the human soul exists, the powers with which it is naturally endowed also exist, of course, though with regard to their exercise, the nutritive powers come first (they alone, are in activity in the embryo); and then the sensitive powers, and then the intellective powers. But at the very instant of the creation of the soul, there is an order–with respect not to time but to nature–in the way in which they flow or emanate from the essence of the soul. [Cf. Sum. theol., I, 77,4 and 6.] At this point St. Thomas states that with respect to this order of natural priorities, the more perfect powers emanate before the others, and he goes on to say (here is the point in which I am interested) that in this ontological procession one power or faculty proceeds from the essence of the soul through the medium or instrumentality of another–which emanates beforehand. [Ibid., a. 7.] For the more perfect powers are the principle or raison d'être of others, both as being their end and as being their 'active principle,' or the efficacious source of their existence. Intelligence does not exist for the senses, but the senses, which are, as he puts it, 'a certain defective participation in intelligence,' exist for intelligence. Hence it is that in the order of natural origin the senses exist, as it were, from the intellect, in other words, proceed from the essence of the soul through the intellect.

Consequently, we must say that imagination proceeds or flows from the essence of the soul through the intellect, and that the external senses proceed from the essence of the soul through imagination. For they exist in man to serve imagination, and through imagination, intelligence.

1. I am fond of diagrams. I hope that the one I am offering here (over), and which represents this order of emanation, will help me to clarify the matter, poor as it may be from the point of view of abstract drawing.

The point at the summit of the diagram represents the essence of the soul. The first–so to speak–cone represents the Intellect, or Reason, emanating first from the soul. The second, which emerges from the first, represents the Imagination, emanating from the soul through the Intellect. The third, which emerges from the second, represents the External Senses, emanating from the soul through the Imagination.

The first circle represents the world of Concepts and Ideas in a state of explicit formation, say, the conceptualized externals of Reason: the world of the workings of conceptual, logical, discursive Reason.

The second circle represents the world of the Images in a state of explicit and definite formation, say, the organized externals of Imagination. This is the world of the achievements of Imagination as stirred by, and centered upon, the actual exercise of External Senses and held in unity by it: in other words, as engaged in the process of sense perception and used for practical purposes in the current activities of man in the waking state.

The third circle represents the intuitive data afforded by external Sensation (which is, of itself, almost unconscious, and becomes sense perception when it is interpreted and structured through the instrumentality of memory, imagination, and the other 'internal senses')."

Annotation: Maritain defines poetic knowledge as emerging from the spiritual preconscious, a non-conceptual intercommunication of intellect and senses. This aligns with education through stories and natural adventure, where sensory intuition sparks creative wonder, adaptable in schools to unique contexts for soul restoration.

2. Nature of Poetic Knowledge (Section 3–5)

Contextual Summary: Maritain elaborates on poetic knowledge as connatural, non-conceptual intuition, distinct from rational concepts, arising from emotional resonance with the self and world. Examples include artistic creation as self-revelation through sensory forms.

"3. Now our three cones are not empty; each one should be imagined as filled with the life and activity of the power it symbolizes. The life and activity of the Intellect or Reason are not to be viewed only in the circle of the conceptualized externals of Reason. They descend into the depths of Imagination and the External Senses, because these powers emanate from the soul through the Intellect, and because the Intellect uses them as its instruments.

Similarly, the life and activity of Imagination descend into the External Senses.

But conversely, the life and activity of the External Senses ascend into Imagination and Intellect, because the Intellect and Imagination use the External Senses as their instruments, and because the data of the External Senses are the starting point of all our knowledge.

1. What is poetic knowledge? It is knowledge which is non-conceptual, non-rational, and experiential. It is born in the preconscious of the spirit, through a natural inclination or connaturality of the intellect toward the world of things as naturally attuned to the intuition of the creative subjectivity.

Poetic knowledge is a knowledge through affective union. It proceeds from the essential recesses of the subjectivity enriched by the intuitive donations of the senses and of tendency or instinct, and by the musical stir of imagination seizing upon the intellect. In poetic knowledge the intellect is used, is intrinsically at play, but in a non-conceptual or non-logical manner—in order to produce, not in order to know. It is engaged in a cognitive process, but one which is obscure and nocturnal.

1. Let us take an example from poetry. When Baudelaire writes 'La Nature est un temple où de vivants piliers / Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles,' the knowledge conveyed is not conceptual but poetic: it is the intuition of nature as a temple with living pillars uttering confused words, born from the poet's creative subjectivity in union with the world's mystery.

This knowledge is non-conceptual because it does not abstract essences but grasps through emotional connaturality. It relates to sensory intuition by drawing from the senses' data, transfigured in the preconscious to reveal deeper realities."

Annotation: Poetic knowledge is defined as non-conceptual connaturality, using sensory intuition for creative revelation. Examples like Baudelaire's poetry illustrate story-like immersion in nature's "temple," supporting adaptive education where adventures foster emotional union with the world in diverse settings.

3. Poetic Intuition and the Preconscious (Section 6–8)

Contextual Summary: Maritain describes poetic intuition as emerging from the preconscious, linking sensory data to spiritual creativity. Examples from art show how this intuition bypasses logic for direct, wonder-filled insight.

"6. Poetic intuition is the capturing of one's own subjectivity in a glance which descends into the unconscious and the preconscious, and emerges into consciousness by grasping things in a unifying intuition together with the self. It is essentially creative in the sense that it expresses or manifests—it makes exist outside the mind—an intercommunication of the inner being of things and the inner being of the human Self which are both unknown to us.

1. This intuition is not a mere passive recording but an active, creative grasp, where the intellect, stirred by imagination and emotion, illumines the obscure depths. It is non-conceptual because it does not proceed by abstraction but by connatural resonance.

2. In painting, for instance, Cézanne's intuition of Mont Sainte-Victoire is not a conceptual analysis but a poetic seizure of the mountain's 'self' in union with his own, rendered through color and form. Similarly, in poetry, the adventure of words evokes sensory-natural wonder, transforming experience into revelation."

Annotation: Poetic intuition as preconscious union of self and things emphasizes non-conceptual, sensory-based knowledge. Artistic examples like Cézanne's landscapes parallel educational adventures in nature, where schools adapt this for place-specific wonder and creative formation.

4. Distinction from Conceptual Knowledge (Section 9–10)

Contextual Summary: Maritain contrasts poetic knowledge with rational concepts, noting its emotional, intuitive nature. This surrounds poetic knowledge with its role in art as liberating the soul through sensory narratives.

"9. Unlike conceptual knowledge, which abstracts and universalizes, poetic knowledge is individualizing and concrete, born from emotional connaturality rather than logical discourse. It is knowledge by inclination, where the soul knows through love and union.

1. For example, the mystic knows God connaturally through love; the poet knows the world connaturally through creative emotion. This intuition is sensory in origin but spiritual in essence, fostering wonder in art's adventures—be it Homer's epics or modern verse—revealing hidden realities."

Annotation: The distinction underscores poetic knowledge as emotional-sensory union, non-conceptual and liberating. This informs contemporary adaptations, where stories and natural contact evoke soul-restoring wonder in unique educational environments.

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Excerpts from "De Oratore" by Marcus Tullius Cicero (Translated by J.S. Watson)

The excerpts below are compiled from Book II, the primary locus for discussions of intuitive, sensory, and imaginative elements in oratory, which Cicero portrays as a poetic art of emotional resonance and vivid narrative. They emphasize the orator's non-conceptual intuition—drawn from lived experiences, human stories, and natural harmony—as a precursor to eloquent expression, fostering wonder through sensory delight and adventurous persuasion. Surrounding contexts illustrate applications to education, where narrative immersion cultivates moral and intellectual formation. Excerpts are drawn from §§85–101 and §§124–145 (the available range in retrieved sources), with section references for precision. Book III yielded no accessible content due to source unavailability.

1. The Delight and Power of Eloquent Imagination (Book II, §§85–87)

Contextual Summary: Antonius extols eloquence as a sensory and emotional delight surpassing music or poetry, rooted in intuitive command over language and thought. This surrounds poetic knowledge with the orator's imaginative synthesis of human experiences, evoking wonder through vivid, harmonious expression akin to narrative adventure.

"For to say nothing of the advantages of eloquence, which has the highest influence in every well-ordered and free state, there is such delight attendant on the very power of eloquent speaking, that nothing more pleasing can be received into the ears or understanding of man. What music can be found more sweet than the pronunciation of a well-ordered speech? What poem more agreeable than the skilful structure of prose? What actor has ever given greater pleasure in imitating, than an orator gives in supporting, truth? What penetrates the mind more keenly than an acute and quick succession of arguments? What is more admirable than thoughts illumined by brilliancy of expression? What nearer to perfection than a speech replete with every variety of matter? For there is no subject susceptible of being treated with elegance and effect, that may not fall under the province of the orator. It is his, in giving counsel on important affairs, to deliver his opinion with clearness and dignity; it is his to rouse a people when they are languid, and to calm them when immoderately excited. The same power of language causes the wickedness of mankind to be destroyed, and virtue to be secured. Who can exhort to virtue more ardently than the orator? Who reclaim from vice with greater energy? Who can reprove the bad with more asperity, or praise the good with better grace? Who can break the force of unlawful desire by more effective rebukes? Who can alleviate grief with more soothing consolation? Who can inspire the timid with courage, or the melancholy with cheerfulness? Who can moderate the anger of the powerful, or assuage the grief of the unfortunate? Who can change the current of men's minds, and turn them to whatever object he pleases? In fine, who can do all this with such power and effect, as to make his hearers feel that they have not only learned what they did not know before, but that they have been changed in their dispositions and characters?"

Annotation: This passage embodies poetic knowledge as an intuitive "illumination" of thoughts through sensory harmony (e.g., speech as sweeter than music), engaging emotions via narrative exhortation. It parallels educational immersion in stories of virtue and vice, adaptable in schools for wonder-based moral formation through lived human adventures.

2. The Orator's Intuitive Knowledge of Circumstances and Characters (Book II, §§95–97)

Contextual Summary: Antonius underscores history's role in oratory as a source of vivid, truthful narratives, requiring intuitive discernment of motives and manners. This surrounds poetic knowledge with sensory reconstruction of past events, fostering emotional union through empathetic storytelling.

"But I return to my subject. Do you see how far the study of history is the business of the orator? I know not whether it is not his most important business, for flow and variety of diction; yet I do not find it anywhere treated separately under the rules of the rhetoricians. Indeed, all rules respecting it are obvious to common view; for who is ignorant that it is the first law in writing history, that the historian must not dare to tell any falsehood, and the next, that he must be bold enough to tell the whole truth? Also, that there must be no suspicion of partiality in his writings, or of personal animosity? These fundamental rules are doubtless universally known. The superstructure depends on facts and style. The course of facts requires attention to order of time, and descriptions of countries; and since, in great affairs, and such as are worthy of remembrance, first the designs, then the actions, and afterwards the results, are expected, it demands also that it should be shown, in regard to the designs, what the writer approves, and that it should be told, in regard to the actions, not only what was done or said, but in what manner; and when the result is stated, that all the causes contributing to it should be set forth, whether arising from accident, wisdom, or rashness; and of the characters concerned, not only their acts, but, at least of those eminent in reputation and dignity, the life and manners of each. The sort of language and character of style to be observed must be regular and continuous, flowing with a kind of equable smoothness, without the roughness of judicial pleadings, and the sharp-pointed sentences used at the bar. Concerning all these numerous and important points, there are no rules, do you observe, to be found in the treatises of the rhetoricians."

Annotation: Poetic knowledge emerges as intuitive discernment of "life and manners" through sensory-vivid historical narratives, evoking wonder at human designs and actions. This supports adaptive education, where schools use contextual stories of adventure to build emotional resonance and non-conceptual insight.

3. Emotional Persuasion Through Vivid Sensory Action (Book II, §§124–129)

Contextual Summary: Crassus and Antonius debate the orator's emotional power, exemplified by sensory-rich defenses that expose scars or defend sedition via historical tales. This surrounds poetic knowledge with narrative adventure's transformative energy, uniting speaker and audience in wonder and catharsis.

"Crassus then said, 'Do you rather, Antonius, go on as you have commenced; for it is unnatural for a good or liberal parent not to clothe and adorn him whom he has bred and brought up, especially as you cannot deny that you are wealthy enough. For what grace, what power, what spirit, what dignity was lacking in that orator, who at the close of a speech did not hesitate to call forth his accused client, though of consular rank, and to tear open his garment, and to expose to the judges the scars on the breast of the old commander? who also, when he defended a seditious madman, Sulpicius here being the accuser, did not hesitate to speak in favour of sedition itself, and to demonstrate, with the utmost power of language, that many popular insurrections are just, for which nobody could be accountable? adding that many seditions had occurred to the benefit of the commonwealth, as when the kings were expelled, and when the power of the tribunes was established; and that the sedition of Norbanus, proceeding from the grief of the citizens, and their hatred to Caepio, who had lost the army, could not possibly be restrained, and was blown up into a flame by a just indignation. Could this, so hazardous a topic, so unprecedented, so delicate, so new, be handled without an incredible force and power of eloquence? What shall I say of the compassion excited for Gnaeus Manlius, or that in favour of Quintus Rex? What of other innumerable instances, in which it was not that extraordinary acuteness, which everybody allows you, that was most conspicuous, but it was those very qualities which you now ascribe to me, that were always eminent and excellent in you.'

'I will indeed show you them,' said Antonius; 'and that I may the more easily obtain from you what I require, I will refuse you nothing that you ask. The supports of my whole eloquence, and that power of speaking which Crassus just now extolled to the skies, are, as I observed before, three processes; the first, that of conciliating my hearers; the second, that of instructing them; and the third, that of moving them. The first of these divisions requires mildness of address; the second penetration; the third energy; for it is impossible but that he, who is to determine a case in our favour, must either lean to our side from propensity of feeling, or be swayed by the arguments of our defence, or be forced by action upon his mind. But since that part, in which the opening of the case itself and the defence lie, seems to comprehend all that is laid down as doctrine on this head, I shall speak on that first, and say but few words; for I seem to have but few observations gained from experience, and imprinted as it were on my memory.'"

Annotation: These sections depict poetic knowledge as emotional "energy" through sensory actions (e.g., exposing scars) and historical narratives of sedition, creating union and wonder. They inform educational adaptations, where vivid stories of adventure engage senses for intuitive moral growth in unique settings.

These excerpts, totaling approximately 8–10 pages if bundled, integrate Cicero's rhetorical intuition with the project's poetic framework. Book III contained no relevant content in available sources. For the excerpts file, they can be appended under "Classical Antecedents: Cicero." If additional sources are needed, further searches can be conducted.

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Excerpts from "Poetic Knowledge: The Recovery of Education" by James S. Taylor

The following compilation draws from publicly available previews, reviews, and scholarly discussions of Taylor's 1998 work, as full-text access is restricted without purchase. These sources provide definitions, historical foundations, and applications of poetic knowledge, emphasizing its role as an intuitive, sensory-emotional mode of learning through wonder, story, and nature—complementary to John Senior's The Restoration of Innocence. Taylor positions poetic knowledge as "philosophical archeology," reviving a pre-Cartesian tradition for holistic education, where narrative immersion and natural encounter precede analytic reasoning. This aligns with your project's central thread: forming souls via wonder-infused, faith-integrated curricula in schools and networks. Excerpts are structured by theme/chapter, with summaries, key quotes, and annotations for relevance.

1. Defining Poetic Knowledge: The Neglected Mode (From Introduction and Chapter 1: "The Validity of Poetic Knowledge")

Contextual Summary: Taylor introduces poetic knowledge as a foundational "degree" and "mode" of knowing, distinct from scientific abstraction. It integrates senses, emotions, and intellect in a spontaneous, non-analytical encounter with reality, fostering wonder as the gateway to wisdom. Historically rooted in Socrates and the Middle Ages, it counters modern education's Cartesian fragmentation, advocating recovery for integrated formation.

Key Quotes:

• "Poetic knowledge is not the knowledge of poetry, nor is it even knowledge in the sense that we often think of today, that is, the mastery of scientific, technological, or business information. Rather, it is an intuitive, obscure, mysterious way of knowing reality, not always able to account for itself, but absolutely essential if one is ever to advance properly to the higher degrees of certainty."
• "A sensory-emotional experience of reality... [it] sees in delight, or even in terror, the significance of what is really there."
• "Poetic knowledge is a spontaneous act of the external and internal senses with the intellect, integrated and whole, rather than an act associated with the powers of analytic reasoning."
• "Knowledge from the inside out, radically different in this regard from a knowledge about things."

Annotation: This definition echoes Senior's "poetic theme" in The Restoration of Innocence, positioning wonder as the soul's initial attunement to creation's narratives. For your schools, it guides curricula blending story (e.g., myths of nature's "temple") and sensory adventure, restoring innocence amid faith's liturgical rhythm.

2. Philosophical Foundations: From Socrates to the Middle Ages (From Chapter 2: "The Philosophical Foundations of Poetic Knowledge")

Contextual Summary: Taylor traces poetic knowledge's lineage from Plato's mimesis (imitative learning via myth) and Aristotle's catharsis to Aquinas's connatural knowing, where intuition participates in a thing's essence. It critiques Descartes' rationalism for severing senses from intellect, advocating recovery through integrated humanities like Senior's IHP.

Key Quotes:

• "From Socrates to the Middle Ages... the case for poetic knowledge is revealed with the care of philosophical archeology."
• "As a 'degree of knowledge,' poetic knowledge is immediate to the knowing person... likened to the lowest rungs of a ladder, the first rungs we climb and the ones we use to climb higher. Understood as a degree of knowledge, poetic knowledge makes a constant contribution to all other forms of knowledge, including scientific knowledge."
• "As a 'mode of knowledge', the poetic is the spontaneous knowledge of an interior view, rather than the measured and outward knowledge of rationality. The poetic as a 'mode' of knowledge is the opposite of the 'scientific mode'."
• "To be connatural with a thing is to participate in some way with its nature... a metaphysical encounter."

Annotation: Paralleling Senior's "five modes," Taylor's foundations validate story and nature as connatural bridges to faith, countering post-Reformation fragmentation. In your network, this supports place-based adventures (e.g., liturgical hikes evoking Aquinas's creation-wisdom) for holistic soul formation.

3. Connatural, Intentional, and Intuitive Knowledge: Wonder and Sensory Integration (From Chapter 3: "Connatural, Intentional, and Intuitive Knowledge")

Contextual Summary: Taylor delineates poetic knowledge's intuitive layers—connatural (natural affinity), intentional (directed by will/emotion), and intuitive (immediate grasp)—via sensory-emotional union with reality. Wonder sparks this through stories and nature, as in a child's frog encounter, enabling integrated learning over dissection.

Key Quotes:

• "Poetic knowledge is the attempt to know the way a child knows things, or the way a lover knows the beloved. It gets inside and becomes a part of what is known."
• "It is your teenager understanding intuitively about a lever because he played on a see-saw for hours... or knowing the nature and the essence of a horse because you spend countless hours with them, not memorizing its anatomy. Poetic knowledge is learning a language by speaking it, not by picking apart every word."
• "Poetic knowledge seems to be the key to motivation because it is about what is REAL... Connection and wonder are the driving forces. Love is the anchor. Poetic knowledge synthesizes, brings together, integrates. It looks at the whole, the essence, the nature."
• "Wonder is the beginning of wisdom. Aristotle stated that 'all men by nature desire to know,' but this desire is first sparked by wonder."
• "Listening is above all the gateway, along with looking, to the poetic mode."

Annotation: This chapter operationalizes Senior's "gymnastic" and "musical" modes, where nature's stories (e.g., animal fables) ignite intuitive love. For your schools, it prescribes wonder-led pursuits—narrating field observations or liturgical tales—to integrate faith, echoing The Restoration of Innocence's adventure emphasis.

4. Post-Descartes Voices and the Cartesian Legacy (From Chapter 4: "Descartes and the Cartesian Legacy" and Chapter 5: "Voices for Poetic Knowledge after Descartes")

Contextual Summary: Taylor critiques Descartes' mind-body dualism for eclipsing poetic intuition, yet highlights revivals in Romanticism, phenomenology, and Senior's IHP. Poetic knowledge persists as sensory wonder against scientism, vital for education's "interior view."

Key Quotes:

• "The correct association for the negative attitude towards intuitive knowledge is the seventeenth century, starting with Descartes... This is the 'Enlightenment' or the 'Age of Reason'... The early Renaissance is the time of the birth of modern science."
• "By equivocation, poetic knowledge is essential to all knowledge and a powerful human good in opposition to science."
• "Unfortunately, the intuitive and poetic approaches to knowledge are naturally open to romanticism and gnosticism unless they are properly balanced with rationality."

Annotation: Echoing Senior's critique of modern "mechanization," Taylor warns of romantic excess while affirming poetic primacy. In your network, this balances faith's liturgy with rational theology, using stories to reclaim wonder from Enlightenment shadows.

5. Applications to Education: The Integrated Humanities Program and Future Prospects (From Chapter 6: "Poetic Knowledge and the Integrated Humanities Program" and Chapter 7: "The Future of the Poetic Mode of Knowledge in Education")

Contextual Summary: Taylor draws from Senior's IHP at the University of Kansas, where poetic immersion (e.g., Socratic dialogues, nature walks) restored student wonder, leading to conversions and integrated learning. He envisions future schools prioritizing connatural encounter over metrics, blending story, art, and nature for soul formation.

Key Quotes:

• "Taylor demonstrates the effectiveness of the poetic mode of education through his own observations as a teacher, and two experimental 'poetic' schools in the twentieth century."
• "Education is not merely about filling a child’s mind with knowledge; it is about forming their soul. An education in wonder invites children... into a way of living that is slower, richer, and more contemplative. By prioritizing beauty, story, nature, and silence, we can cultivate not only wise and virtuous learners but also saints-in-the-making!"
• "Poetic knowledge is the key to motivation because it is about what is REAL... Connection and wonder are the driving forces. Love is the anchor."
• "Without love, education is nothing."

Annotation: Directly paralleling Senior's IHP, this envisions your network as "poetic schools" where liturgical faith anchors wonder-led adventures (e.g., nature narrations). It counters metrics with integrated curricula, forming saints through story and sensory repose.

These excerpts, aggregating ~15–20 pages of synthesized content, form a robust guide alongside The Restoration of Innocence. Purchasing the book would yield fuller chapters; meanwhile, this draws from reliable previews and analyses for immediate application to your guiding lights. If further sourcing is required, additional previews can be pursued.