The Moon Gazed On My Midnight Labours,

It May...be Judged Indecent In Me To Come Forward On This Occasion; But When I See A Fellow-creature About To Perish Through The Cowardice Of Her Pretended Friends, I Wish To Be Allowed To Speak, That I May Say What I Know Of Her Character.

I See By Your Eagerness, And The Wonder And Hope Which Your Eyes Express, My Friend, That You Expect To Be In Formed Of The Secret With Which I Am Acquainted. That Cannot Be.

Life And Death Appeared To Me Ideal Bounds, Which I Should First Break Through, And Pour A Torrent Of Light Into Our Dark World.

Poetry, And The Principle Of Self, Of Which Money Is The Visible Incarnation, Are The God And The Mammon Of The World.

When I Step Into The Batter's Box, The Fans, The Noise, The Cheers, They All Disappear. For That Moment, The World Is Just A Battle Between Me And The Pitcher. And More Than Anything, I Want To Win.