Don't You Think That As A People,

My Body Seems A Mere Encumbrance To Me; An Imbecillic Wagon, Hitched To The Horse Of Desire, Which Is The Soul.

Every Twinge Of Sensation, Even Of Agony, Was A Negation Of Death.

All Fled—all Done, So Lift Me On The Pyre— The Feast Is Over, And The Lamps Expire.

Aye, You White Dog, You Are Like All Your Race; But To A Black Man Gold Can Never Pay For Blood.

Barbarianism Is The Natural State Of Mankind. Civilization Is Unnatural. It Is The Whim Of Circumstance. And Barbarianism Must Ultimately Triumph