Dignity Is An Anachronism.

What Was Time Itself But The Bloom, The Sheath Enfolding Experience? Within Time, And With Time Alone, There Was Life - The Gleam, The Quiver, The Heartbeat, The Immeasurable Joy And Anguish Of Being.

Nothingis So Ungrateful As A Rising Generation; Yet, If There Is Any Faintest Glimmer Of Light Ahead Of Us In The Present, Itwas Kindled By The Intellectual Fires That Burned Long Before Us.

. . . This Rage - I Have Never Forgotten It - Contained Every Anger, Every Revolt I Had Ever Felt In My Life - The Way I Felt When I Saw The Black Dog Hunted, The Way I Felt When I Watched Old Uncle Henry Taken Away To The Almshouse, The Way I Felt Whenever I Had Seen People Or Animals Hurt For The Pleasure Or Profit Of Others.

Spring Was Running In A Thin Green Flame Over The Valley.

It Is Human Nature To Overestimate The Thing You've Never Had.