Men Die, But The Plutocracy Is Immortal;

Damn The Great Executives, The Men Of Measured Merriment, Damn The Men With Careful Smiles, Damn The Men That Run The Shops, Oh, Damn Their Measured Merriment.

Whatever The Misery, He Could Not Regain Contentment With A World Which, Once Doubted, Became Absurd.

So Much In A Revolution Is Nothing But Waiting.

Indians, Of Course, Have No "theology," And Indeed No Word For The System Of Credulity In Which The White Priests Arrange For God, Who Must Be Entirely Bewildered By It, A Series Of Excuses For His Failures.

Vast Is The Power Of Cities To Reclaim The Wanderer.