We White People Think That We Know

We May Taste Of Every Turn Of Chance - Now Rule As Kings, Now Serve As Slaves; Now Love, Now Hate; Now Prosper, And Now Perish. But Still, Through All, We Are The Same; For This Is The Marvel Of Identity.

My Death Is Very Near To Me, And Of This I Am Glad, For I Desire To Pursue The Quest In Other Realms, As It Has Been Promised To Me That I Shall Do.

A Sharp Spear Needs No Polish.

We Run To Place And Power Over The Dead Bodies Of Those Who Fail And Fall; Ay, We Win The Food We Eat From Out The Mouths Of Starving Babes.

Truly Time Should Be Measured By Events, And Not By The Lapse Of Hours.