At The Top Of The Iron Staircase

Researchers, With Science As Their Authority, Will Be Able To Cut Animals Up, Alive, Into Small Pieces, Drop Them From A Great Height To See If They Are Shattered By The Fall, Or Deprive Them Of Sleep For Sixteen Days And Nights Continuously For The Purposes Of An Iniquitous Monograph. . . . Animal Trust, Undeserved Faith, When At Last Will You Turn Away From Us? Shall We Never Tire Of Deceiving, Betraying, Tormenting Animals Before They Cease To Trust Us?

I Am Going Away With Him To An Unknown Country Where I Shall Have No Past And No Name, And Where I Shall Be Born Again With A New Face And An Untried Heart.

On This Narrow Planet, We Have Only The Choice Between Two Unknown Worlds. One Of Them Tempts Us - Ah! What A Dream, To Live In That! - The Other Stifles Us At The First Breath.

January, Month Of Empty Pockets! Let Us Endure This Evil Month, Anxious As A Theatrical Producer's Forehead.

The Word 'pure' Has Never Revealed An Intelligent Meaning To Me. I Can Only Use The Word To Quench An Optical Thirst For Purity In The Transparencies That Evoke It - In Bubbles, In A Volume Of Water, And In The Imaginary Latitudes Entrenched, Beyond Reach, At The Very Center Of A Dense Crystal.