It Is Only A Little

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

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

Cruelty Is A Part Of Nature, At Least Of Human Nature, But It Is The One Thing That Seems Unnatural To Us.

A Little Too Abstract, A Little Too Wise, It Is Time For Us To Kiss The Earth Again, It Is Time To Let The Leaves Rain From The Skies, Let The Rich Life Run To The Roots Again.