So That Was The Way. No Fair

The Aim Of Life Was Meat. Life Itself Was Meat. Life Lived On Life. There Were The Eaters And The Eaten. The Law Was: Eat Or Be Eaten. He Did Not Formulate The Law In Clear, Set Terms And Moralize About It. He Did Not Even Think The Law; He Merely Lived The Law Without Thinking About It At All.

As One Grows Weaker One Is Less Susceptible To Suffering. There Is Less Hurt Because There Is Less To Hurt.

He Was Mastered By The Sheer Surging Of Life, The Tidal Wave Of Being, The Perfect Joy Of Each Separate Muscle, Joint, And Sinew In That It Was Everything That Was Not Death, That It Was Aglow And Rampant, Expressing Itself In Movement, Flying Exultantly Under The Stars.

There Are, Broadly Speaking, Two Types Of Drinkers. There Is The Man Whom We All Know, Stupid, Unimaginative, Whose Brain Is Bitten Numbly By Numb Maggots; Who Walks Generously With Wide-spread, Tentative Legs, Falls Frequently In The Gutter, And Who Sees, In The Extremity Of His Ecstasy, Blue Mice And Pink Elephants.... The Other Type Of Drinker Has Imagination, Vision. Even When Most Pleasantly Jingled He Walks Straight And Naturally, Never Staggers Nor Falls, And Knows Just Where He Is And What He Is Doing. It Is Not His Body But His Brain That Is Drunken.

He Was Justifying His Existence, Than Which Life Can Do No Greater; For Life Achieves Its Summit When It Does To The Uttermost That Which It Was Equipped To Do.