This Wild Swan Of A World Is

O That Our Souls Could Scale A Height Like This, A Mighty Mountain Swept O'er By The Bleak Keen Winds Of Heaven; And, Standing On That Peak Above The Blinding Clouds Of Prejudice, Would We Could See All Truly As It Is; The Calm Eternal Truth Would Keep Us Meek.

If Millions Are Born Millions Must Die.

Still The Mind Smiles At Its Own Rebellions.

Pleasure Is The Carrot Dangled To Lead The Ass To Market; Or The Precipice.

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.