I Have Conversed With The Spiritual Sun.

Prisons Are Built With Stones Of Law. Brothels With The Bricks Of Religion.

Thinking As I Do That The Creator Of This World Is A Very Cruel Being, And Being A Worshipper Of Christ, I Cannot Help Saying: ''the Son, O How Unlike The Father!'' First God Almighty Comes With A Thump On The Head. Then Jesus Christ Comes With A Balm To Heal It.

All Futurity Seems Teeming With Endless Destruction Never To Be Repelled; Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.

Knowledge Is Life With Wings

The Angel That Presided O'er My Birth Said, 'little Creature, Formed Of Joy And Mirth, Go Love Without The Help Of Any Thing On Earth'.