Today I am sad because someone wonderful died unexpectedly.  I only knew him casually, but well enough to know it goes down as a dear loss in the world’s ledger.  His name was John McGann; he was a wonderful person and a brilliant musician.  If you knew him, you undoubtedly miss him too.  If you didn’t, I’m sad you won’t have that opportunity.  

May God bless you and receive you in His love, John.  

It is moments like this that make all of the normal stuff seem absurd.  

Musee des Beaux Arts

by W. H. Auden

About suffering they were never wrong,
The old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position: how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.