The Civil War Is Not Ended: I

Think Neither Fear Nor Courage Saves Us. Unnatural Vices Are Fathered By Our Heroism. Virtues Are Forced Upon Us By Our Impudent Crimes. These Tears Are Shaken From The Wrath-bearing Tree.

O Lord, Deliver Me From The Man Of Excellent Intention And Impure Heart: For The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, And Desperately Wicked.

Never Commit Yourself To A Cheese Without Having First Examined It.

In The Room The Women Come And Go Talking Of Michelangelo.

Immature Poets Imitate; Mature Poets Steal.