San Francisco Is Gone. Nothing Remains Of

For The Pride Of Trace And Trail Was His, And Sick Unto Death, He Could Not Bear That Another Dog Should Do His Work.

He Was Always Striving To Attain It. The Life That Was So Swiftly Expanding Within Him, Urged Him Continually Toward The Wall Of Light. The Life That Was Within Him Knew That It Was The One Way Out, The Way He Was Predestined To Tread.

Everything Is Good . . . As Long As It Is Unpossessed. Satiety And Possession Are Death's Horses They Run In Span.

The Life That Is Demanding To Be Born Is Limitless. Nature Is A Spendthrift. Look At The Fish And Their Millions Of Eggs. For That Matter, Look At You And Me. In Our Loins Are The Possibilities Of Millions Of Lives. Could We But Find Time And Opportunity And Utilize The Last Bit And Every Bit Of The Unborn Life That Is In Us, We Could Become The Fathers Of Nations And Populate Continents.

I'd Rather Sing One Wild Song And Burst My Heart With It, Than Live A Thousand Years Watching My Digestion And Being Afraid Of The Wet.