A Slave Is One Who

I Could I Trust Starve Like A Gentleman. It's Listed As Part Of The Poetic Training, You Know.

The Intellect Is A Very Nice Whirligig Toy, But How People Take It Seriously Is More Than I Can Understand.

Quiet This Metal! Let The Manes Put Off Their Terror, Let Them Put Off Their Aqueous Bodies With Fire. Let Them Assume The Milk-white Bodies Of Agate. Let Them Draw Together The Bones Of The Metal.

One Discards Rhyme, Not Because One Is Incapable Of Rhyming Neat, Fleet, Sweet, Meet, Treat, Eat, Feet But Because There Are Certain Emotions Or Energies Which Are Nor Represented By The Over-familiar Devices Or Patterns.

A Crowd Pagan As Ever Imperial Rome Was, Eager, Careless, With An Animal Vigour Unlike That Of Any European Crowd That I Have Ever Looked At.