I think there's an enormous lot of talent around, and somewhere amongst these I'm sure that something will emerge, given time.

MUSIC I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread. Now that I am without you, all is desolate, All that was once so beautiful is dead. Your hands once touched this table and this silver,And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. These things do not remember you, beloved: And yet your touch upon them will not pass. For it was in my heart you moved among them,And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes.And in my heart they will remember always: They knew you once, O beautiful and wise!

We are the ghosts of the singing furies .

All lovely things will have an ending, all lovely things will fade and die; and youth, that's now so bravely spending, Will beg a penny by and by.

For in this walk, this voyage, it is yourself, the profound history of your 'self,' that now as always you encounter.

Separate we come, and separate we go, And this be it known, is all that we know.

I'm afraid I wasn't much of a student, but my casual reading was enormous.