Being, Not Doing, Is My First Joy.

We Think By Feeling. What Is There To Know?

The Mind Enters Itself, And God The Mind, And One Is One, Free In The Tearing Wind.

When I Go Mad, I Call My Friends By Phone: I Am Afraid They Might Think They're Alone.

Light Takes The Tree; But Who Can Tell Us How? The Lowly Worm Climbs Up A Winding Stair; I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. Great Nature Has Another Thing To Do To You And Me, So Take The Lively Air, And, Lovely, Learn By Going Where To Go. This Shaking Keeps Me Steady. I Should Know. What Falls Away Is Always. And Is Near. I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.