Contemplation would make a good life, keep it strict, only The eyes of a desert skull drinking the sun, Too intense for flesh, lonely Exultations of white bone; Pure action would make a good life, let it be sharp- Set between the throat and the knife. A man who knows death by heart Is the man for that life. In pleasant peace and security How suddenly the soul in a man begins to die. He shall look up above the stalled oxen Envying the cruel falcon, And dig under the straw for a stone To bruise himself on. 562SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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