Noon, Ripe As Thunder And Silent As

For What Use Are Books To Anyone Whose Days Are Like A Rook's Nest With Every Twig A Duty.

He Saw In Happiness The Seeds Of Independence, And In Independence The Seeds Of Revolt.

Years On End, And Swords On End - Where Will It End, If Our Ears Unbend - What Shall I Spend On A Wrinkled Friend In A Pair Of Tights Like A Bunch Of Lights?

Mount And Begone. The World Awaits You.

[peake's Books] Are Actual Additions To Life; They Give, Like Certain Rare Dreams, Sensations We Never Had Before, And Enlarge Our Conception Of The Range Of Possible Experience.