Gods Always Love The People Who Make

Most Things Are Born In The Mothering Darkness And Most Things Die. Darkness Is The Womb Of Creation, My Boy. But The Sun With His Seven Horns Of Flame Is The Father Of Life.

Bitterness Is The Coward's Revenge On The World For Having Been Hurt.

I Belong To No Race Nor Time. I Am The Eternal Feminine With Its String Of Beads.

Like The Dead-seeming, Cold Rocks, I Have Memories Within That Came Out Of The Material That Went To Make Me. Time And Place Have Had Their Say.

Janie Saw Her Life Like A Great Tree In Leaf With The Things Suffered, Things Enjoyed, Things Done And Undone. Dawn And Doom Was In The Branches