Barbarianism Is The Natural State Of Mankind.

It Is An Ill Thing To Meet A Man You Thought Dead In The Woodland At Dusk.

It Is Better To Go In The Dark When The Road Must Pass A Lion And There Is No Other Road.

Musings The Little Poets Sing Of Little Things: Hope, Cheer, And Faith, Small Queens And Puppet Kings; Lovers Who Kissed And Then Were Made As One, And Modest Flowers Waving In The Sun. The Mighty Poets Write In Blood And Tears And Agony That, Flame-like, Bites And Sears. They Reach Their Mad Blind Hands Into The Night, To Plumb Abysses Dead To Human Sight; To Drag From Gulfs Where Lunacy Lies Curled, Mad, Monstrous Nightmare Shapes To Blast The World. [click On The Thumbnail By Jack "king" Kirby]

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

I Became A Writer In Spite Of My Environments.