If Millions Are Born Millions Must Die.

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.

Poetry Is Not A Civilizer, Rather The Reverse, For Great Poetry Appeals To The Most Primitive Instincts.

Nature Knows That People Are A Tide That Swells And In Time Will Ebb, And All Their Works Dissolve ... As For Us: We Must Uncenter Our Minds From Ourselves. We Must Unhumanize Our Views A Little And Become Confident As The Rock And Ocean That We Are Made From.

I've Changed My Ways A Little, I Cannot Now Run With You In The Evenings Along The Shore, Except In A Kind Of Dream, And You, If You Dream A Moment, You See Me There.

As For Me, I Would Rather Be A Worm In A Wild Apple Than A Son Of Man. But We Are What We Are, And We Might Remember Not To Hate Any Person, For All Are Vicious; And Not To Be Astonished At Any Evil, All Are Deserved; And Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.