Books Console Us, Calm Us, Prepare Us,

A Poem Is Something Sacred. Let No One Take It For Anything Except Itself.

I Come From All Places And To All Places I Go: I Am Art Among The Arts And Mountain Among Mountains. I Know The Strange Names Of Flowers And Herbs And Of Fatal Deceptions And Magnificent Griefs. In Night's Darkness I've Seen Raining Down On My Head Pure Flames, Flashing Rays Of Beauty Divine.

"racist" Is A Confusing Word, And It Should Be Clarified. Men Have No Special Rights Simply Because They Belong To One Race Or Another. When You Say "men," You Have Already Imbued Them With All Their Rights.

Perhaps The Enemies Of Liberty Are Such Only Because They Judge It By Its Loud Voice. If They Knew Its Charms, The Dignity That Accompanies It, How Much A Free Man Feels Like A King, The Perpetual Inner Light That Is Produced By Decorous Self-awareness And Realization, Perhaps There Would Be No Greater Friends Of Freedom Than Those Who Are Its Worst Enemies.

Like Bones To The Human Body, The Axle To The Wheel, The Wing To The Bird, And The Air To The Wing, So Is Liberty The Essence Of Life. Whatever Is Done Without It Is Imperfect.