Deep Furrows: Instead, There is No Poetry without Judgment

Industrious people, people of the deepest tilling.
They are not a people who stagnate and wallow in the swamps of sloth.
In the stagnant bogs, in the cesspools, in the dead marshes.
In the stagnation of despair.
In the stagnation and the mud of sin.
Alert people, gardening people, with whom the bad days
Do not settle, the bad days do not seep
Into stagnant bogs, but these people of the market-gardens
Make the swamps themselves into the most beautiful gardens.

The Portal of the Mystery of Hope, Charles Péguy, p 105