Books are not men and yet they are alive, they are man's memory and his aspiration, the link between his present and his past, the tools he builds wi… - Stephen Vincent Benét

For those who still said "Red Front" or "God save the Crown!" And for those who were not courageous But were beaten nevertheless. For those who spit out the bloody stumps of their teeth Quietly in the hall, Sleep well on stone or iron, watch for the time And kill the guard in the privy before they die, Those with the deep-socketed eyes and the lamp burning.

She stood there, and at once I knew The bitter thing that I must do. There could be no surrender now; Though Sleep and Death were whispering low.

Rest you, my enemy,
Slain without fault,
Life smacks but tastelessly
Lacking your salt!
Stuck in a bog whence naught
May catapult me,
Come from the grave, long-sought,
Come and insult me!