The Only Amarantine Flower On Earth Is

Religion, Richest Favor Of The Skies.

Go, Mark The Matchless Working Of The Power That Shuts Within The Seed The Future Flower; Bids These In Elegance Of Form Excel. In Color These, And Those Delight The Smell; Sends Nature Forth, The Daughter Of The Skies, To Dance On Earth, And Charm All Human Eyes.

My Soul Is Sick With Every Day's Report Of Wrong And Outrage With Which Earth Is Filled.

I Am Out Of Humanity's Reach.

Strange As It May Seem, The Most Ludicrous Lines I Ever Wrote Have Been Written In The Saddest Mood.