You Burned The City Of

That Peculiar Disease Of Intellectuals, That Infatuation With Ideas At The Expense Of Experience, That Compels Experience To Conform To Bookish Expectations.

You Burned The City Of London In Our Houses And We Felt The Flames.

Freedom Is The Right To Choose: The Right To Create For Oneself The Alternatives Of Choice. Without The Possibility Of Choice And The Exercise Of Choice A Man Is Not A Man But A Member, An Instrument, A Thing.

The Map Of America Is A Map Of Endlessness, Of Opening Out, Of Forever And Ever. No Man's Face Would Make You Think Of It But His Hope Might, His Courage Might.

If The Poem Can Be Improved By The Author's Explanations, It Never Should Have Been Published.