I Love The Flesh. I'm A Pagan.

But Especially He Loved To Run In The Dim Twilight Of The Summer Midnights, Listening To The Subdued And Sleepy Murmurs Of The Forest, Reading Signs And Sounds As A Man May Read A Book, And Seeking For The Mysterious Something That Called -- Called, Waking Or Sleeping, At All Times, For Him To Come.

I Do Not Live For What The World Thinks Of Me, But For What I Think Of Myself.

The Human Race Is Doomed To Sink Back Farther And Farther Into The Primitive Night Ere Again It Begins Its Bloody Climb Upward To Civilization.

For The Pride Of Trace And Trail Was His, And Sick Unto Death, He Could Not Bear That Another Dog Should Do His Work.

I Would Rather Be Ashes Than Dust.