All Are / Naked, None Is Safe.

The Ocean, Under The Pulsation Of Lighthouses And Noise Of Bell Buoys, Advances As Usual, Looking As If It Were Not That Ocean In Which Dropped Things Are Bound To Sink-- In Which If They Turn And Twist, It Is Neither With Volition Nor Consciousness.

The Heart That Gives, Gathers.

One Detects Creative Power By Its Capacity To Conquer One's Detachment.

The Prey Of Fear, He, Always Curtailed, Extinguished, Thwarted By The Dusk, Work Partly Done, Says To The Alternating Blaze, "again The Sun! Anew Each Day; And New And New And New, That Comes Into And Steadies My Soul."

Maine Should Be Pleased That Its Animal Is Not A Waverer, And Rather Than Fight, Lets The Primed Quill Fall. Shallow Oppressor, Intruder, Insister, You Have Found A Resister.