At the very heart of the namesake poem "Pale Fire", in Vladimir Nabokov's most lapidary and perhaps most perfect novel of the same name, these lines crystallize, as it were, the wisdom of John Shade, the wise, gray poet protaganist of the poem (and part subject of the novel). These lines resonate whenever I see something like this dried up wetland at Bosque del Apache a few weeks ago:
"But all at once it dawned on me that this
Was the real point, the contrapuntal theme;
Just this: not text, but texture; not the dream
But topsy-turvical coincidence, ...."
Yes! It sufficed that I in life could find..."
Or correlated pattern in the game,
Plexed artistry..." (Pale Fire, Canto 3 line 806-815)