The Endless Legacy Of The Past To

The Day Will Dawn When Europe Will Believe Only In The Man Who Tramples Her Underfoot.

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.

Nothing Is Irredeemably Ugly But Sin.

It Is Not Hope But Despair That Gives Us The Measure Of Our Ambitions. We May Yield Secretly To Beautiful Poems Of Hope But Grief Looms Start And Stripped Of All Veils.

Women? In Order To Realize How Far These Charming Creatures We Idealize Can Carry Their Cruelty, We Must See Them Among Themselves!