The Soul Of Man Must Quicken To

If You Desire To Drain To The Dregs The Fullest Cup Of Scorn And Hatred That A Fellow Human Being Can Pour Out For You, Let A Young Mother Hear You Call Dear Baby 'it.'

Fare Forward, Travellers! Not Escaping From The Past Into Different Lives, Or Into Any Future; You Are Not The Same People Who Left That Station Or Who Will Arrive At Any Terminus, While The Narrowing Rails Slide Together Behind You.

The Single Rose Is Now The Garden Where All Loves End

My Life Is Light, Waiting For The Death Wind, Like A Feather On The Back Of My Hand.

In Order To Possess What You Do Not Possess, You Must Go By The Way Of Dispossession.