I, Too, Saw God Through Mud

Do You Know What Would Hold Me Together On A Battlefield? The Sense That I Was Perpetuating The Language In Which Keats And The Rest Of Them Wrote!

All I Ask Is To Be Held Above The Barren Wastes Of Want.

The English Say, Yours Truly, And Mean It. The Italians Say, I Kiss Your Feet, And Mean, I Kick Your Head.

I Don't Ask Myself, Is The Life Congenial To Me? But, Am I Fitted For, Am I Called To, The Ministry?

Happy Are Men Who Yet Before They Are Killed Can Let Their Veins Run Cold.