The big houses sat in self-congratulatory propinquity on their level green
lawnsstout matrons seated elbow to elbow, implacably chaperoning
a ball. Brendan Gill On a residential boulevard of Rochester,
NewYork. A New York Life.
Propinquity had brought Imagination to that
pitch where it casts out All that is not
itself. I had grown wild And wandered
murmuring everywhere,'My child, my child.' W(illiam) B(utler) Yeats 'A Bronze Head', l.18^21. Collected in Last Poems