A Man Loves The Meat In His

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It.

Thrust Your Head Into The Public Street, To Gaze On Christian Fools With Varnish'd Faces.

Speak What We Feel, Not What We Ought To Say.

The Mind Of Guilt Is Full Of Scorpions.