It's Hard Luck Always Having To Be

Even Our Misfortunes Are A Part Of Our Belongings.

What Was My Body To Me? A Kind Of Flunkey In My Service. Let But My Anger Wax Hot, My Love Grow Exalted, My Hatred Collect In Me, And That Boasted Solidarity Between Me And My Body Was Gone.

No Truth Is Proved, No Truth Achieved, By Argument, And The Ready-made Truths Men Offer You Are Mere Conveniences Or Drugs To Make You Sleep.

Sorrow Is One Of The Vibrations That Prove The Fact Of Living.

The Tree Is More Than First A Seed, Then A Stem, Then A Living Trunk, And Then Dead Timber. The Tree Is A Slow, Enduring Force Straining To Win The Sky.