The Seas Are The Heart's Blood Of

The Leaves Fall, The Wind Blows, And The Farm Country Slowly Changes From The Summer Cottons Into Its Winter Woods.

To Know Only Artificial Night Is As Absurd And Evil As To Know Only Artificial Day.

Learn To Reverence Night And To Put Away The Vulgar Fear Of It, For, With The Banishment Of Night From The Experience Of Man, There Vanishes As Well A Religious Emotion, A Poetic Mood, Which Gives Depth To The Adventure Of Humanity.

The Seas Are The Hearts Blood Of The Earth. Plucked Up And Kneaded By The Sun And The Moon, The Tides Are Systole And Diastole Of Earth's Veins.

Animals Are Not Brethren, They Are Not Underlings; They Are Other Nations, Caught With Ourselves In The Net Of Life And Time.