Susan Cain: Longing for The Beautiful World
The Art of Asking Everything
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The Eihtes Music, All Breathing, Human Passion Far Above
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express a flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme? What leaf fringed legend haunts about thy shape? Of deities or mortals, or of both, in tempe or the ales of arcade? What men or gods are these? What maidens loath? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrils? What wild ecstasy? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are therefore ye. Soft pipes play on, not to the sensual ear, but more endeared pipe, to the spirit. Ditties of no tone. Fair youth beneath the trees, thou canst not leave thy
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