I Was Five Years Old The First

The Effect Of Civilization Is To Impose Human Law Upon Environment Until It Becomes Machine-like In Its Regularity. The Objectionable Is Eliminated, The Inevitable Is Foreseen. One Is Not Even Made Wet By The Rain Nor Cold By The Frost; While Death, Instead Of Stalking About Gruesome And Accidental, Becomes A Prearranged Pageant, Moving Along A Well-oiled Groove To The Family Vault, Where The Hinges Are Kept From Rusting And The Dust From The Air Is Swept Continually Away.

The Function Of Man Is To Live, Not To Exist.

She Was Thrilling To A Desire That Urged Her To Go Forward, To Be In Closer To That Fire, To Be Squabbling With The Dogs, And To Be Avoiding And Dodging The Stumbling Feet Of Men.

The Aim Of Life Was Meat. Life Itself Was Meat. Life Lived On Life. There Were The Eaters And The Eaten.

Then One Can't Make A Living Out Of Poetry? Certainly Not. What Fool Expects To? Out Of Rhyming, Yes.