The great pagan world of which Egypt and Greece were the last living termsonce had a vast and perhaps perfect science of itsown, a science in terms of life. In our era this science crumbled into magic and charlatanry. But even wisdom crumbles.

Only the flow matters; live and let live, love and let love. There is no point in love.

A snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.

Love is never a fulfillment. Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life.

In America the chief accusation seems to be one of "Eroticism." This is odd, rather puzzling to my mind. Which Eros? Eros of the jaunty "amours," or Eros of the sacred mysteries? And if the latter, why accuse, why not respect, even venerate?

I think societal instinct much deeper than sex instinct — and societal repression much more devastating.

The horse, the horse! The symbol of surging potency and power of movement, of action.