Let the breath lead the way.
Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
the shell must break before the bird can fly.
Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
The mighty hopes that make us men.
I hadn't done any professional singing. I had sung in the shower and in my car and sometimes at a family bonfire if there was enough alcoholized wine.
However inadequate our ideas of causal efficacy may be, we are less wide of the mark when we say that our ideas and feelings have it, than the Automatists are when they say they haven't it. As in the night all cats are gray, so in the darkness of metaphysical criticism all causes are obscure. But one has no right to pull the pall over the psychic half of the subject only. . . whilst in the same breath one dogmatizes about material causation as if Hume, Kant, and Lotze had never been born.
You just can't wake up out of bed and think you can figure out a gym. You definitely need some personal training.
I think Paul Martin doesn't mean what he says. He said he would clear this sort of thing up and he didn't do it.