[at A Musical Concert:] . . .

The Truth--a Hideous Spectacle!

Life Is The Thing--the Song Of Life-- The Eager Plow, The Thirsty Knife!

I Think There's An Enormous Lot Of Talent Around, And Somewhere Amongst These I'm Sure That Something Will Emerge, Given Time.

Poetry Will Absorb And Transmute, As It Always Has Done, And Glorify, All That We Can Know.

You Know, Without My Telling You, How Sometimes A Word Or Name Eludes You, And You Seek It Through Running Ghosts Of Shadow -- Leaping At It, Lying In Wait For It To Spring Upon It, Spreading Faint Snares For It Of Sense Or Sound: Until, Of A Sudden, As If In A Phantom Forest, You Hear It, See It Flash Among The Branches, And Scarcely Knowing How, Suddenly Have It.