Deep In Their Roots, All Flowers Keep

Art Is Our Defense Against Hysteria And Death.

Time Marks Us While We Are Marking Time.

The Indignity Of It!- With Everything Blooming Above Me, Lilies, Pale-pink Cyclamen, Roses, Whole Fields Lovely And Inviolate,- Me Down In The Fetor Of Weeds, Crawling On All Fours, Alive, In A Slippery Grave.

And I Walked, I Walked Through The Light Air; I Moved With The Morning.

Wake The Happy Words.