If We Must Die, O Let Us

Upon The Clothes Behind The Tenement, That Hang Like Ghosts Suspended From The Lines, Linking Each Flat, But To Each Indifferent, Incongruous And Strange The Moonlight Shines.

If A Man Is Not Faithful To His Own Individuality, He Cannot Be Loyal To Anything.

It's When You Are Down That You Learn About Your Faults.

And, Hungry For The Old, Familiar Ways, I Turned Aside And Bowed My Head And Wept.

We Are Like Trees. We Wear All Colors Naturally.