Shall we mourn here deedless forever a shadow-folk mist-haunting dropping vain tears in the thankless sea

A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night.

End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

Things will go as they will, and there is no need to hurry to meet them.

A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.

My political opinions lean more and more to anarchy. The most improper job of any man, even saints, is bossing other men. There is only one bright spot and that is the growing habit of disgruntled men of dynamiting factories and power stations. I hope that, encouraged now as patriotism, may remain a habit.

No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it.