Let us honor if we can the vertical man, though we value none but the horizontal one

A dead man who never caused others to die seldom rates a statue.

I know nothing, except what everyone knows - if there when Grace dances, I should dance.

The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the teacup opens A lane to the land of the dead.

When one looks into the window of a store which sells devotional art objects, one can't help wishing the iconoclasts had won.

What we have not named as a symbol escapes our notice.

Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse.