My Life Is Unjust, But I Can

Except The Christ Be Born Again Tonight In Dreams Of All Men, Saints And Sons Of Shame, The World Will Never See His Kingdom Bright.

The Only Thing That A Man May Do That Is New, Is To Write Himself On Human Hearts.

The Sun Is A Huntress Young, The Sun Is A Red, Red Joy, The Sun Is An Indian Girl, Of The Tribe Of The Illinois. The Sun Is A Smouldering Fire, That Creeps Through The High Gray Plain, And Leaves Not A Bush Of Cloud To Blossom With Flowers Of Rain. The Sun Is A Wounded Deer, That Treads Pale Grass In The Skies, Shaking His Golden Horns, Flashing His Baleful Eyes. The Sun Is An Eagle Old, There In The Windless West. Atop Of The Spirit-cliffs He Builds Him A Crimson Nest.

You Can't Crush Ideas By Suppressing Them. You Can Only Crush Them By Ignoring Them.

Authors And Uncaptured Criminals Are The Only People Free From Routine.