O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things,That draws oblivion's curtains over kings;Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not,Their names without a record are forgot,Their parts, their ports, their p...
What a child does not know and does not want to know of race and colour and class, he learns soon enough as he grows to see each man flipped inexorably into some predestined groove like a penny or a s...