A Man With A Club [bat] Is

I Did Not Begin When I Was Born, Nor When I Was Conceived. I Have Been Growing, Developing, Through Incalculable Myriads Of Millenniums... All My Previous Selves Have Their Voices, Echoes, Promptings In Me... Oh, Incalculable Times Again Shall I Be Born.

To Be Able To Forget Means Sanity.

As For The Primitive, I Hark Back To It Because We Are Still Very Primitive. How Many Thousands Of Years Of Culture, Think You, Have Rubbed And Polished At Our Raw Edges? One Probably; At The Best, No More Than Two. And That Takes Us Back To Screaming Savagery, When, Gross Of Body And Deed, We Drank Blood From The Skulls Of Our Enemies, And Hailed As Highest Paradise The Orgies And Carnage Of Valhalla.

Everything Is Good . . . As Long As It Is Unpossessed. Satiety And Possession Are Death's Horses They Run In Span.

He Had Learned Well The Law Of Club And Fang, And He Never Forewent An Advantage Or Drew Back From A Foe He Had Started On The Way To Death. He Had Lessoned From Spitz, And From The Chief Fighting Dogs Of The Police And Mail, And Knew There Was No Middle Course. He Must Master Or Be Mastered; While To Show Mercy Was A Weakness. Mercy Did Not Exist In The Primordial Life. It Was Misunderstood For Fear, And Such Misunderstandings Made For Death. Kill Or Be Killed, Eat Or Be Eaten, Was The Law; And This Mandate, Down Out Of The Depths Of Time, He Obeyed.