Over The River A Golden Ray Of

Tell Her This And More,— That The King Of The Seas Weeps Too, Old, Helpless Man. The Bustling Fates Heap His Hands With Corpses Until He Stands Like A Child With Surplus Of Toys.

These Stupid Peasants, Who, Throughout The World, Hold Potentates On Their Thrones, Make Statesmen Illustrious, Provide Generals With Lasting Victories, All With Ignorance, Indifference, Or Half-witted Hatred, Moving The World With The Strength Of Their Arms, And Getting Their Heads Knocked Together In The Name Of God, The King, Or The Stock Exchange-immortal, Dreaming, Hopeless Asses, Who Surrender Their Reason To The Care Of A Shining Puppet, And Persuade Some Toy To Carry Their Lives In His Purse.

It Was Not Well To Drive Men Into Final Corners; At Those Moments They Could All Develop Teeth And Claws.

When It Occurs To A Man That Nature Does Not Regard Him As Important, And That She Feels She Would Not Maim The Universe By Disposing Of Him, He At First Wishes To Throw Bricks At The Temple, And He Hates Deeply The Fact That There Are No Bricks And No Temples.

Think As I Think," Said A Man, "or You Are Abominably Wicked; You Are A Toad." And After I Thought Of It, I Said, "i Will, Then, Be A Toad.