THINGS fall apart; the centre cannot hold.
WB Yeats, the great Irish poet, wonderful lyricist, and holder of some deeply dubious political views, wrote this in 1919 when Ireland was indeed in turmoil.
A couple of decades later, when the whole world was in turmoil, Yeats showed his true colours with some of the fascist-friendly sympathies he expressed; but that poem is still a beacon for certain, uncertain, times.
The times we are in now are just such times...
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