For A Time They Confronted Each Other

Good God, If Our Civilization Were To Sober Up For A Couple Of Days It'd Die Of Remorse On The Third.

In The War To Come Correspondents Would Assume Unheard Of Importance, Plunging Through Flame To Feed The Public Its Little Gobbets Of Dehydrated Excrement.

The Howling Pariah Dogs, The Cocks That Herald Dawn All Night, The Drumming, The Moaning That Will Be Found Later White Plumage Huddled On Telegraph Wires In Back Gardens Or Fowl Roosting In Apple Trees, The Eternal Sorrow That Never Sleeps Of Great Mexico.

The Consul Felt A Pang. Ah, To Have A Horse, And Gallop Away, Singing, To Someone You Loved Perhaps, Into The Heart Of All The Simplicity And Peace In The World; Was That Not Like The Opportunity Afforded Man By Life Itself? Of Course Not. Still, Just For A Moment, It Had Seemed That It Was.

What I Have Absolutely No Sympathy With Is The Legislator, The Man Who Seeks, For His Own Profit, To Exploit The Weaknesses Of Those Who Are Unable To Help Themselves And Then To Fasten Some Moral Superscription Upon It. This I Loathe So Much That I Cannot Conceivably Explain How Much It Is.