No Honest Theologian Therefore Can Deny That

But That So Many Scholars Are Barbarians Does Not Much Matter So Long As A Few Of Them Are Ready To Help With Their Specialized Knowledge The Few Independent Thinkers, That Is To Say The Poets, Who Try To To Keep Civilization Alive.

So When I'm Killed, Don't Wait For Me, Walking The Dim Corridor; In Heaven Or Hell, Don't Wait For Me, Or You Must Wait For Evermore. You'll Find Me Buried, Living-dead In These Verses That You've Read.

Faults In English Prose Derive Not So Much From Lack Of Knowledge, Intelligence Or Art As From Lack Of Thought, Patience Or Goodwill.

Entrance And Exit Wounds Are Silvered Clean, The Track Aches Only When The Rain Reminds. The One-legged Man Forgets His Leg Of Wood, The One-armed Man His Jointed Wooden Arm. The Blinded Man Sees With His Ears And Hands As Much Or More Than Once With Both His Eyes.

For Words Of Rapture Groping, They"never Such Love," Swore "ever Before Was!"