You Burned The City Of London In

The Dissenter Is Every Human Being At Those Moments Of His Life When He Resigns Momentarily From The Herd And Thinks For Himself.

There Is No Dusk To Be, There Is No Dawn That Was, Only There's Now, And Now, And The Wind In The Grass.

If The Art Of Poetry Is?the Art Of Making Sense Of The Chaos Of Human Experience, It's Not A Bad Thing To See A Lot Of Chaos.

To See The Earth As We Now See It, Small And Beautiful In That Eternal Silence Where It Floats, Is To See Ourselves As Riders On The Earth Together, Brothers On That Bright Loveliness In The Unending Night ~ Brothers Who See Now They Are Truly Brothers.

Around, Around The Sun We Go: The Moon Goes Round The Earth. We Do Not Die Of Death: We Die Of Vertigo.