Blast Of Silence

The flag’s taking off for that filthy place, and our jargon’s drowning out the drums.
“In the big cities, we’ll keep alive an all-out cynical whoring. We’ll massacre all revolts that make sense.
“On to the wasted and dried-up countries! -at the service of the most monstrously efficient military-industrial complexes.
“Goodbye to here, forget what’s there. Recruits of good will, we’ll have a ferocious philosophy. Not caring for science, eager for comforts -let the rest of the world go blow! This is the real thing. Forwaaaaaard, march! ”

Horses have hoofs to carry them over frost and snow; hair, to protect them from wind and cold. They eat grass and drink water, and fling up their heels over the prairie. Such is the real nature of horses. Palatial dwellings are of no use to them.
One day Po Lo appeared, saying: I understand the management of horses. So he branded them, and clipped them, and pared their hoofs, and put halters on them, tying them up by the head and shackling them by the feet, and putting them in stables. As a result, two or three in every ten died. Then he kept them hungry and thirsty, trotting them and galloping them, and grooming, and trimming, with the misery of the tasseled bridle before and the fear of the knotted whip behind, until more than half of them were dead. ”