I Have Seen These Ways Of God:

They Import And They Consume Reality.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

The World's In A Bad Way, My Man, And Bound To Be Worse Before It Mends; Better Lie Up In The Mountain Here Four Or Five Centuries, While The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean.

And You, America, That Passion Made You. You Were Not Born To Prosperity, You Were Born To Love Freedom. You Did Not Say "en Masse," You Said "independence." But We Cannot Have All The Luxuries And Freedom Also.

It Seems To Me That This Whole Alone Is Worthy Of The Deeper Sort Of Love; And That There Is Peace, Freedom, I Might Say A Kind Of Salvation, In Turning One's Affections Outward Toward This One God, Rather Than Inwards On One's Self, Or On Humanity, Or On Human Imaginations And Abstractions - The World Of The Spirits.