That Is Almost The Whole Of Russian

But I Like The Feel Of Men On Things, While They're Alive. There's A Feel Of Men About Trucks, Because They've Been Handled With Men's Hands, All Of Them.

There's Always The Hyena Of Morality At The Garden Gate, And The Real Wolf At The End Of The Street.

Rippling, Rippling, Rippling, Like A Flapping Overlapping Of Soft Flames, Soft As Feathers, Running To Points Of Brilliance, Exquisite, Exquisite And Melting Her All Molten Inside.

How Sure I Feel, How Warm And Strong And Happy For The Future! How Sure The Future Is Within Me; I Am Like A Seed With A Perfect Flower Enclosed.

Nobody Can Have The Soul Of Me. My Mother Has Had, And Nobody Can Have It Again. Nobody Can Come Into My Very Self Again, And Breathe Me Like An Atmosphere.