Well: the day is a poem but too much Like one of Jeffers's, crusted with blood and barbaric omens Painful to excess, inhuman as a hawk's cry.

Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made / Something more equal to the centuries / Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness.

The tides are in our veins.

Corruption never has been compulsory; when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.

The heads of strong old age are beautiful beyond all grace of youth.

Justice and mercy/ Are human dreams, they do not concern the birds nor the fish nor eternal God.

[K]now that however ugly the parts appear the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand Is an ugly thing, and man dissevered from the earth and stars and his history... for contemplation or in fact... Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness, the greatest beauty is Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe.