Unbeing dead isn't being alive.

Such was a poet and shall be and is-who'll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam's architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain's heartbeat in his hand.

down with hell and heaven and all the religious fussinfinity pleased our parents one inch looks good to us

How do you like your blue-eyed boy Mr Death?

a billion brains may coax undeathfrom fancied fact and spaceful time--no heart can leap, no soul can breathebut by the sizeless truth of a dreamwhose sleep is the sky and the earth and the seaFor love are in you am in i are in we