And when I met Cecil Taylor it was a complete transformation of musical identities. All the tenets that I had grown up with were thrown out the window. ↗
The glories of our blood and state, Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hand on kings. Scepter and crown must tumble down, And, in the dust, be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. ↗
Upon the whole it was a Glorious day-Our men are in the Spirits-and I am confident we shall give them a total defeat the next Action; which is at no great distance. ↗