All Men Love You For Themselves. I

For The Vision Of One Man Lends Not Its Wings To Another Man.

History Does Not Repeat Itself Except In The Minds Of Those Who Do Not Know History.

Yes, There Is A Nirvanah; It Is Leading Your Sheep To A Green Pasture, And In Putting Your Child To Sleep, And In Writing The Last Line Of Your Poem

O Love, Whose Lordly Hand Has Bridled My Desires, And Raised My Hunger And My Thirst To Dignity And Pride, Let Not The Strong In Me And The Constant Eat The Bread Or Drink The Wine That Tempt My Weaker Self. Let Me Rather Starve, And Let My Heart Parch With Thirst, And Let Me Die And Perish, Ere I Stretch My Hand To A Cup You Did Not Fill, Or A Bowl You Did Not Bless.

Rebellion Without Truth Is Like Spring In A Bleak, Arid Desert.