When man wanted to make a machine that would walk he created the wheel, which does not resemble a leg.
I sing the joy of wandering and the pleasure of the wanderer's death
Memories are hunting horns whose sound dies on the wind.
To insist on purity is to baptize instinct, to humanize art, and to deify personality.
My, how beautiful is war! its songs, its leisure!
It's raining my soul, it's raining, but it's raining dead eyes.