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THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS ~William Butler Yeats 



I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

THE SOUND OF SILENCE 

"And they write innumerable books;
being too vain and distracted for silence:
seeking every one after his own elevation,
and dodging his emptiness."
—T. S. Eliot

"Every now and then, when you're on stage,
you hear the best sound a player can hear.
It is the sound of a wonderful, deep silence
that means you've hit them where they live."
—Shelley Winters

"Music is the silence between the notes."
—Claude Debussy

"Now all my teachers are dead except silence."
—W. S. Merwin

"Silence is a source of great strength."
—Lao Tzu

"There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time.
There is always something to see, something to hear.
In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot."
—John Cage

"When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs.
When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence."
—Ansel Adams

TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS by John Lennon 



Turn off your mind relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying

Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,
It is shining, it is shining.

Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being

Love is all and love is everyone
It is knowing, it is knowing

And ignorance and hate mourn the dead
It is believing, it is believing

But listen to the colour of your dreams
It is not leaving, it is not leaving

So play the game "Existence" to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning

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