Let us retrace our steps: I have deceived you: Nothing is here I could not frankly tell you: No hint of guilt, or faithlessness, or threat. Dreams-they are madness. Staring eyes-illusion. Let us return, hear music, and forget . . .

Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass, Through many doors to the one door of all. Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music: Or see a skeleton fall . …

Of what she said to me that night-no matter. The strange thing came next day. My brain was full of music-something she played me-; I couldn't remember it all, …

'When you are dead your spirit will find my spirit, And then we shall die no more.'

I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact.

Klopstock was questioned regarding the meaningof a passage in his poem. He replied, 'God and I both knew what it meant once; now God alone knows.'

Your Englishman, confronted by something abnormal will always pretend that it isn't there. If he can't pretend that, he will look through the object, or round …