I May Say That I Think Greed

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.

One's Own Surroundings Means So Much To One, When One Is Feeling Miserable.

My Poems Are Hymns Of Praise To The Glory Of Life.

If One Is A Greyhound, Why Try To Look Like A Pekingese?

But I Saw The Little-ant Men As They Ran Carrying The World's Weight Of The World's Filth And The Filth In The Heart Of Man-- Compressed Till Those Lusts And Greeds Had A Greater Heat Than That Of The Sun.