The Red Sun Was Pasted In The

A Serious Prophet Upon Predicting A Flood Should Be The First Man To Climb A Tree. This Would Demonstrate That He Was Indeed A Seer.

Such An Assemblage Of The Spraddle-legged Men Of The Middle Class, Whose Hands Were Bent And Shoulders Stooped From Delving And Constructing, Had Never Appeared To An Asbury Park Summer Crowd, And The Latter Was Vaguely Amused.

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

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.

Do Not Weep, Babe, For War Is Kind.because Your Father Tumbled In The Yellow Trenches,raged At His Breast, Gulped And Died,do Not Weep.war Is Kind.