And night and far to go. Wishful songs, some from boyhood. The one about the fish and the old man. The one about rowing. And night and far to go. The uproar of living by day and dreaming by night. Your teeth wear out. The brass buttons on father’s uniform glitter up in the attic. And night and far to go. Have I ever told you my dear, that a succession of immense birds guides all my thinking?
Planet of the Blind 