Meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic. - Robinson Jeffers

I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky. Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

For now I know that whatever bent this world around us, whether it was God or whether it was blind
Chance as blind as my father,
Is perfectly good, we're given a dollar of life to gamble against a dollar's worth of desire
And if we win we have both but losers lose nothing,

We must uncenter our minds from ourselves; We must unhmanize our views a little, and become confident As the rock and ocean that we were made from.