Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.

Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain, And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

In the power and splendor of the universe, inspiration waits for the millions to come. Man has only to strive for it. Poems greater than the Iliad, plays greater than Macbeth, stories more engaging than Don Quixote await their seeker and finder.

Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.

I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.