God Is Liberal Of Color; So Should

...the Silent Reminiscence Of Hardships Departed, Is Sweeter Than The Presence Of Delight.

It Is Not Down In Any Map; True Places Never Are.

The March Of Conquest Through Wild Provinces, May Be The March Of Mind; But Not The March Of Love.

But The Past Is Passed; Why Moralize Upon It? Forget It. See, Yon Bright Son Has Forgotten It All, And The Blue Sea, And The Blue Sky; These Have Turned Over New Leaves. Because They Have No Memory . . . Because They Are Not Human.

The Consciousness Of Being Deemed Dead, Is Next To The Presumable Unpleasantness Of Being So In Reality. One Feels Like His Own Ghost Unlawfully Tenanting A Defunct Carcass.