... We Do Not Admire

Impatience Is The Mark Of Independence, Not Of Bondage.

There Never Was A War That Was Not Inward.

The Hands Are The Heart's Messengers.

In A Poem The Words Should Be As Pleasing To The Ear As The Meaning Is To The Mind.

They Fought The Enemy, We Fight Fat Living And Self-pity. Shine, O Shine, Unfalsifying Sun, On This Sick Scene.