Over The River A Golden Ray Of

Philosophy Should Always Know That Indifference Is A Militant Thing. It Batters Down The Walls Of Cities And Murders The Women And Children Amid The Flames And The Purloining Of Altar Vessels. When It Goes Away It Leaves Smoking Ruins, Where Lie Citizens Bayonetted Through The Throat. It Is Not A Children's Pastime Like Mere Highway Robbery.

I Walked In A Desert. And I Cried, ‘ah, God, Take Me From This Place!’ A Voice Said, ‘it Is No Desert.’ I Cried, ‘well, But - The Sand, The Heat, The Vacant Horizon.’ A Voice Said, ‘it Is No Desert.’

A Learned Man Came To Me Once. He Said, "i Know The Way, -- Come." And I Was Overjoyed At This. Together We Hastened. Soon, Too Soon, Were We Where My Eyes Were Useless, And I Knew Not The Ways Of My Feet. I Clung To The Hand Of My Friend; But At Last He Cried, "i Am Lost.

But I Like It Because It Is Bitter, And Because It Is My Heart.

Perhaps An Individual Must Consider His Own Death To Be The Final Phenomenon Of Nature.