Memory, prophecy and fantasy, the past, the future and the dreaming moment between are all one country, living one immortal day.To know that is Wisdom. To use it is the Art.
Back o'er the deep I turn my longing eyes,And chide the wayward passions that rebel:Yet boots it not to think, or to complain,Musing sad ditties to the reckless main.To dreams like these, adieu! the pealing bellSpeaks of the hour that stays not—and the dayTo life's sad turmoil calls my heart away.william lisle bowles
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