"I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;/
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams...“ W.B. Yeats.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Words! Mere words!
Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of a viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?