Society Is A Hospital Of Incurables.

The Question Is Whether [suicide] Is The Way Out, Or The Way In.

Cause And Effect, Means And Ends, Seed And Fruit Cannot Be Severed; For The Effect Already Blooms In The Cause, The End Preexists In The Means, The Fruit In The Seed

Every Roof Is Agreeable To The Eye, Until It Is Lifted; Then We Find Tragedy And Moaning Women, And Hard-eyed Husbands.

Only So Much Of Life Do I Know As I Have Lived.

O, When I Am Safe In My Sylvan Home, I Mock At The Pride Of Greece And Rome; And When I Am Stretch'd Beneath The Pines When The Evening Star So Holy Shines, I Laugh At The Lore And Pride Of Man, At The Sophist's Schools, And The Learned Clan; For What Are They All In Their High Conceit, When Man In The Bush With God May Meet?