Monday, November 16, 2015

Slouching towards Paris...

     Turning and turning in the widening gyre
     The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
     Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
     Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
     The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
     The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
     The best lack all conviction, while the worst
     Are filled with passionate intensity.
                                                                  W.B. Yeats

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