O.k. I'm Running Out Of

What Pudor Pejorocracy Affronts How Awe, Night-rest And Neighborhood Can Rot What Breeds Where Dirtiness Is Law What Crawls Below

One Loves Only Form, And Form Only Comes Into Existence When The Thing Is Born.

Whatever You Have To Say, Leave The Roots On, Let Them Dangle And The Dirt Just To Make Clear Where They Come From.

Atlantis Will Rise Again.

The Heroes Of The Present Will Retreat To The Imitation They Are Anyhow.