In A Rich Land, Fertile, Replete With Snails I'd Like To Dig Myself A Spacious Pit Where I Might Spread At Leisure Myoid Bones And Sleep Unnoticed, Like A Shark At Sea. I Hate Both Testaments And Epitaphs; Sooner Than Beg Remembrance From The World I Would, Alive, Invite The Hungry Crows To Bleed My Tainted Carcass Inch By Inch. O Worms! Dark Playmates Minus Ear Or Eye, Prepare To Meet A Free And Happy Corpse; Droll Philosophies, Children Of Rottenness, Go Then Along My Ruin Guiltlessly, And Say If Any Torture Still Exists For This Old Soulless Corpse, Dead With The Dead!