The Liquor Of Statecraft Is Distilled From

I Have A Strong Suspicion . That Much That Passes For Constant Love Is A Golded- Up Moment Walking In Its Sleep.

When Janie Looked Out Of Her Door She Saw The Drifting Mists Gathered In The West -- That Cloud Field Of The Sky -- To Arm Themselves With Thunders And March Forth Against The World. Louder And Higher And Lower And Wider The Sound And Motion Spread, Mounting, Sinking, Darking.

I Note That The Africa Loves To Depict The Grace Of Reptiles.

It Seems That Fighting Is A Game Where Everybody Is The Loser.

Among The Thousand White Persons, I Am A Dark Rock Surged Upon, And Overswept.