My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery – always buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, and then buried in mud. And why? Whats this passion for?
One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted —
One need not be a House —
The Brain has Corridors — surpassing
Material Place —
It’s not a question of pessimism or optimism. It’s just that ninety-nine out of a hundred people don’t have any brains.[Дело не в пессимизме и не в оптимизме, а в том, что у девяноста девяти из ста нет ума.]
I was taught that the human brain was the crowning glory of evolution so far, but I think it’s a very poor scheme for survival.
I felt a Cleaving in my Mind —
As if my Brain had split —
I tried to match it — Seam by Seam —
But could not make it fit.