You must conceive yourself looking up at a world lighted, warmed, and resonant with music.

We sleep to time’s hurdy-gurdy; we wake, if we ever wake, to the silence of God. And then, when we wake to the deep shores of time uncreated, then when the dazzling dark breaks over the far slopes of time, then it’s time to toss things, like our reason, and our will; then it’s time to break our necks for home. There are no events but thoughts and t

hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, at times it’s only me. —Bob Dylan, “Every Grain of Sand”