The Cold Passion For Truth Hunts In

Poetry Is Not A Civilizer, Rather The Reverse, For Great Poetry Appeals To The Most Primitive Instincts.

Nature Knows That People Are A Tide That Swells And In Time Will Ebb, And All Their Works Dissolve ... As For Us: We Must Uncenter Our Minds From Ourselves. We Must Unhumanize Our Views A Little And Become Confident As The Rock And Ocean That We Are Made From.

Long Live Freedom And Damn The Ideologies.

Pleasure Is The Carrot Dangled To Lead The Ass To Market; Or The Precipice.

I Have Seen These Ways Of God: I Know Of No Reason For Fire And Change And Torture And The Old Returnings.