And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.

Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.

If you done it, it ain't bragging.

I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Silence? What can New York-noisy, roaring, rumbling, tumbling, bustling, story, turbulent New York-have to do with silence? Amid the universal clatter, the incessant din of business, the all swallowing vortex of the great money whirlpool-who has any, even distant, idea of the profound repose......of silence?

Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.