We Think By Feeling. What Is There

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.

The Indignity Of It!- With Everything Blooming Above Me, Lilies, Pale-pink Cyclamen, Roses, Whole Fields Lovely And Inviolate,- Me Down In The Fetor Of Weeds, Crawling On All Fours, Alive, In A Slippery Grave.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

(i Measure Time By How A Body Sways.)

Let Others Probe The Mystery If They Can.time-harried Prisoners Of Shall And Will -the Right Thing Happens To The Happy Man.