The work for giants...to serve well the guns!

What beauty there is in words; what a lurking curious charm in the sound some words.

Battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.

This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage, snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.

All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza-nor that of the women's chorus; it is nearer and farther than they.

Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gathered, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon and small arms!

The earth does not argue, Is not pathetic, has no arrangements, Does not scream, haste, persuade, threaten, promise, Makes no discriminations, has no conceivable failures, Closes nothing, refuses nothing, shuts none out.