It Was The Masterful And Incommunicable Wisdom

. . . And God Knows We Are Sensitive To The Suffering That Has Sometimes Broken Loose To Come Billowing Forth From Your Appendages Like The Pungent Vapors Of Whales - Often It Appears That In This Life Of Experience And Accommodation We Pay Just As Dearly For Our Triumphs As We Do For Our Defeats. But Sissy . . . Hold On!

I Early Learned That There Were Two Natures In Me. This Caused Me A Great Deal Of Trouble, Till I Worked Out A Philosophy Of Life And Struck A Compromise Between The Flesh And The Spirit. Too Great An Ascendancy Of Either Was To Be Abnormal, And Since Normality Is Almost A Fetish Of Mine, I Finally Succeeded In Balancing Both Natures. Ordinarily They Are At Equilibrium; Yet As Frequently As One Is Permitted To Run Rampant, So Is The Other. I Have Small Regard For An Utter Brute Or For An Utter Saint.

Then One Can't Make A Living Out Of Poetry? Certainly Not. What Fool Expects To? Out Of Rhyming, Yes.

Having No New Companions, Nothing Remained For Him But To Read.

Cruelty, As A Fine Art, Has Attained Its Perfect Flower In The Trained-animal World.