A poor degenerate from the ape, Whose hands are four, whose tails a limb, I contemplate my flaccid shape And know I may not rival him Save with my mind. (Aldous Huxley)

A poor degenerate from the ape, Whose hands are four, whose tails a limb, I contemplate my flaccid shape And know I may not rival him Save with my mind.

Aldous Huxley

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