This is from The Infinite Conversation by Maurice Blanchot (1993; originally published in 1969):
… On the first page of his book, one of the most beautiful, Yves Bonnefoy has written: “I dedicate this book to the improbable, that is to say, to what is. To a spirit of vigil. To the negative theologies. To a poetry longed for, of rains, of waiting and of wind. To a great realism that aggravates instead of resolving, that designates the obscure, that takes clarity for clouds that can always be parted. That has concern for a clarity high and impracticable.”
My most recent previous post from Blanchot’s book is here.
-Julie
