The heads of strong old age are beautiful beyond all grace of youth.
Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts.
civilization is a transient sickness.
You making haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
If millions are born millions must die.
As for me, I would rather be a worm in a wild apple than a son of man. But we are what we are, and we might remember not to hate any person, for all are vicious; And not to be astonished at any evil, all are deserved; And not to fear death; it is the only way to be cleansed.