Every new stroke of civilization has cost the lives of countless brave men, who have fallen defeated by the dragon, in their efforts to win the apples of the Hesperides, or the fleece of gold. Fallen in their efforts to overcome the old, half sordid savagery of the lower stages of creation, and win the next stage.

Now in November nearer comes the sun down the abandoned heaven.

Men! The only animal in the world to fear.

Away with all ideals. Let each individual act spontaneously from the forever incalculable prompting of the creative wellhead within him. There is no universal law.

I can only see death and more death, till we are black and swollen with death.

You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And I should die there smothered.

Do not allow to slip away from you freedoms the people who came before you won with such hard knocks.