Wits And Swords Are As Straws Against

When A Nation Forgets Her Skill In War, When Her Religion Becomes A Mockery, When The Whole Nation Becomes A Nation Of Money-grabbers, Then The Wild Tribes, The Barbarians Drive In... Who Will Our Invaders Be? From Whence Will They Come?

Every Twinge Of Sensation, Even Of Agony, Was A Negation Of Death.

I Have Known Many Gods. He Who Denies Them Is As Blind As He Who Trusts Them Too Deeply. I See Not Beyond Death. Let Me Live While I Live; Let Me Know The Rich Juices Of Red Meat And Stinging Wine On My Palate, The Hot Embrace Of White Arms, The Mad Exultation Of Battle When The Blue Blades Flame And Crimson, And I Am Content. I Know This: If Life Is An Illusion, Then I Am No Less Than An Illusion, And Being Thus, The Illusion Is Real To Me. I Live, I Burn With Life, I Love, I Slay, And Am Content.

In The Hill Country, Civilization Steals In Last, And The People Retain Much Of The Crude But Vigorous Mode Of Expression Of The Colonial Days And Earlier.

I Reckon If I Ever Marry, She Will Have To Be A Strong Woman In A Circus Or Something.