There is a waking dream which underlies logic as the sea beneath a boat. We think much of the boat and perhaps too little of the sea and her tides. Logic and genius alike are built upon these dreams and symbols and the more we deny them the hungrier and more dissatisfied we become with life. It is Autumn. The days are getting shorter. The empire is waning. Some want to escape to the past, while others want to rush ahead to the future. We live in an era of hope and memory. the Irish poet Yeats said,  “Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art.”

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