Seagulls . . . Slim Yachts Of

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.

Humanity Is The Start Of The Race; I Say Humanity Is The Mould To Break Away From, The Crust To Break Through, The Coal To Break Into Fire, The Atom To Be Split.

God Is A Lion That Comes In The Night. God Is A Hawk Gliding Among The Stars-- If All The Stars And The Earth, And The Living Flesh Of The Night That Flows In Between Them, And Whatever Is Beyond Them Were That One Bird. He Has A Bloody Beak And Harsh Talons, He Pounces And Tears.

The Love Of Freedom Has Been The Quality Of Western Man.

As For Me, I Would Rather Be A Worm In A Wild Apple Than A Son Of Man. But We Are What We Are, And We Might Remember Not To Hate Any Person, For All Are Vicious; And Not To Be Astonished At Any Evil, All Are Deserved; And Not To Fear Death; It Is The Only Way To Be Cleansed.