for my own part, I have never had a thought
which I could not set down in words
with even more distinctness that which I conceived it.
there is however a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy
which are not thoughts and to which as yet
I have found it absoultely impossible to adapt to language.
these fancies arise in the soul
alas how rarely, only at epochs
of most intense tranquility
when the bodily and mental health are in perfection.
and those mere points of time
when the confines of the waking world
blend with the world of dreams.
and so I captured this fancy
where all that we see or seem
is but a dream within a dream.
'tales of mystery and imagination'
edgar allan poe
narration: orson welles
music: the alan parsons project