The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.

Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind.

A little man said to the Universe. "Sir! I exist." The Universe replied: "That's fine." Just don't think it creates any obligation on my part.

Everything is bicycle.

There were many who went in huddled procession,They knew not wither,But, at any rate, success or calamityWould attend all in equality.There was one who sought a new road,He went into direful thickets,And ultimately he died thus, alone;But they said he had courage.

The man had arrived at that stage of drunkenness where affection is felt for the universe.

When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top He cried: "Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands— But the scene is grey.