The People Among Which I Lived -

Every Twinge Of Sensation, Even Of Agony, Was A Negation Of Death.

A Woman In Such An Emotional Tempest Is As Perilous As A Blind Cobra To Any About Her.

Know, Oh Prince, That Between The Years When The Oceans Drank Atlantis And The Gleaming Cities, And The Years Of The Rise Of The Sons Of Aryas, There Was An Age Undreamed Of, When Shining Kingdoms Lay Spread Across The World Like Blue Mantles Beneath The Stars.

There Comes, Even To Kings, The Time Of Great Weariness. Then The Gold Of The Throne Is Brass, The Silk Of The Palace Becomes Drab. The Gems In The Diadem And Upon The Fingers Of The Women Sparkle Drearily Like The Ice Of White Seas; The Speech Of Men Is As The Empty Rattle Of A Jester's Bell And The Feel Comes Of Things Unreal; Even The Sun Is Copper In The Sky And The Breath Of The Green Ocean Is No Longer Fresh.

Don't You Think That As A People, Americans Have Less Poetry, Real Poetry, In Their Souls Than Any Other Nations?