And then the ox would lurch against the gong And deaden it and I would feel my tongue Like the dropped gangplank of a cattle truck, Trampled and rattled, running piss and muck.
Every hand and every hour should be devoted to rescue the world from its insanity of guilt, and to assuage the pangs of human hearts with balm and anodyne. To pity distress is but human; to relieve it is Godlike.
