What Do I Know Of Cultured Ways,

The People Among Which I Lived - And Yet Live, Mainly - Made Their Living From Cotton, Wheat, Cattle, Oil, With The Usual Percentage Of Business Men And Professional Men.

I Have Accomplished Little Enough, But Such As It Is, It Is The Result Of My Own Efforts.

How Can I Wear The Harness Of Toil And Sweat At The Daily Round, While In My Soul Forever The Drums Of Pictdom Sound?

There Comes, Even To Kings, The Time Of Great Weariness. Then The Gold Of The Throne Is Brass, The Silk Of The Palace Becomes Drab. The Gems In The Diadem And Upon The Fingers Of The Women Sparkle Drearily Like The Ice Of White Seas; The Speech Of Men Is As The Empty Rattle Of A Jester's Bell And The Feel Comes Of Things Unreal; Even The Sun Is Copper In The Sky And The Breath Of The Green Ocean Is No Longer Fresh.

I'll Say One Thing About An Oil Boom; It Will Teach A Kid That Life's A Pretty Rotten Thing As Quick As Anything I Can Think Of.