You Are The Music While The Music

And Now You Live Dispersed On Ribbon Roads, And No Man Knows Or Cares Who Is His Neighbor Unless His Neighbor Makes Too Much Disturbance, But All Dash To And Fro In Motor Cars, Familiar With The Roads And Settled Nowhere.

My Life Is Light, Waiting For The Death Wind, Like A Feather On The Back Of My Hand.

The Hint Half Guessed, The Gift Half Understood, Is Incarnation. Here The Impossible Union Of Spheres Of Existence Is Actual. Here The Past And Future Are Conquered And Reconciled.

Not The Intense Moment Isolated, With No Before And After, But A Lifetime Burning In Every Moment.

I Am Glad You Have A Cat, But I Do Not Believe It Is So Remarkable A Cat As My Cat.