If Millions Are Born Millions Must Die.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

Poetry Is Not A Civilizer, Rather The Reverse, For Great Poetry Appeals To The Most Primitive Instincts.

The Tides Are In Our Veins.

The Love Of Freedom Has Been The Quality Of Western Man.

Does It Matter Whether You Hate Yourself? At Least Love Your Eyes That Can See, Your Mind That Can Hear The Music, The Thunder Of The Wings.