I dance with the dancers.
Of all mankind the great poet is the equable man. Not in him but off from him things are grotesque or eccentric or fail of their sanity.
I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.
So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.
Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth ever afterward resumes its liberty.