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Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply that it is not heard at all, but you are the music while the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses, hints followed by guesses: and the rest is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action. The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is incarnation.
"Dry Salvages" from Four Quartets

A god can do it. But will you tell me how a man can penetrate through the lyre's strings? Our mind is split. And at the shadowed crossing of heart-roads, there is no temple for Apollo. Song as you have taught it is not desire, not wooing any grace that can be achieved; song is reality. Simple, for a god. But when can we be real? When does he pour the earth, the stars, into us? Young man, it is not your loving, even if your mouth was forced wide open by your own voice--learn to forget that passionate music. It will end. True singing is a different breath, about nothing. A gust inside the wind. A god.
The Sonnets to Orpheus, 1, 3

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