We Are Betrayed By What

My Religion Of Life Is Always To Be Cheerful.

Cynicism Is Intellectual Dandyism.

The Stench Of The Trail Of Ego In Our History. It Is Ego - Ego, The Fountain Cry, Origin, Sole Source Of War.

I've Studied Men From My Topsy-turvy Close, And I Reckon, Rather True. Some Are Fine Fellows: Some, Right Scurvy; Most, A Dash Between The Two.

Lovely Are The Curves Of The White Owl Sweeping Wavy In The Dusk Lit By One Large Star. Lone On The Fir-branch, His Rattle-note Unvaried, Brooding O'er The Gloom, Spins The Brown Eve-jar.