Still The Mind Smiles At Its Own

Shiva... Is The Only Hunter That Will Ever Catch The Wild Swan; The Prey She Will Take Last Is The Wild White Swan Of The Beauty Of Things. Then She Will Be Alone, Pure Destruction, Achieved And Supreme, Empty Darkness Under The Death-tent Wings. She Will Build A Nest Of The Swan's Bones And Hatch A New Brood, Hang New Heavens With New Birds, All Be Renewed.

If Millions Are Born Millions Must Die.

I Have Seen These Ways Of God: I Know Of No Reason For Fire And Change And Torture And The Old Returnings.

The Cold Passion For Truth Hunts In No Pack.

We Have To Live Like People In A Web Of Knives, We Mustn't Reach Out Our Hands Or We Get Them Gashed.