Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

Between the desire And the spasm, Between the potency And the existence, Between the essence And the descent, Falls the Shadow.

There will be time to murder and create.

We can at least try to understand our own motives, passions, and prejudices, so as to be conscious of what we are doing when we apeal to those of others. This is very difficult, because our own prejudice and emotional bias always seems to us so rational.

The Rum Turn Tugger is a terrible bore: When you let him in, then he wants to be out; He's always on the wrong side of every door, And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

Everyone gets the experience. Some get the lesson.