The Sense Of Death Is Most In

Blow, Winds, And Crack Your Cheeks! Rage! Blow! You Cataracts And Hurricanoes, Spout Till You Have Drenched Our Teeples, Drowned The Cocks! You Sulphurour And Thought-executing Fires, Vaunt-couriers To Oak-cleaving Thunderbolts, Singe My White Head! And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Molds, All Germens Spill At Once That Make Ingrateful Man!

Go Wisely And Slowly. Those Who Rush Stumble And Fall.

Your Worm Is Your Only Emperor For Diet; We Fat All Creatures Else To Fat Us, And We Fat Ourselves For Maggots.

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

Fishes Live In The Sea, As Men Do A-land; The Great Ones Eat Up The Little Ones.