Time Is A Dream ... A Destroying

I'm Afraid I Wasn't Much Of A Student, But My Casual Reading Was Enormous.

It Is Precisely The Sort Of Thing I Am Always Trying To Do In My Writing -- To Present My Unhappy Reader With A Wide-ranged Chaos -- Of Actions And Reactions, Thoughts, Memories And Feelings -- In The Vain Hope That At The End He Will See That The Whole Thing Represents Only One Moment, One Feeling, One Person. A Raging, Trumpeting Jungle Of Associations, And Then I Announce At The End Of It, With A Gesture Of Despair, "this Is I!

Ghostly Above Us In Lamplight The Towers Gleam ... And After A While They Will Fall To Dust And Rain; Or Else We Will Tear Them Down With Impatient Hands; And Hew Rock Out Of The Earth, And Build Them Again.

Should I Not Hear, As I Lie Down In Dust, The Horns Of Glory Blowing Above My Burial?

Life Is The Thing--the Song Of Life-- The Eager Plow, The Thirsty Knife!