The Church Of My Choice Is The

They Wanted To Have A Good Time, But They Were Like Children Playing In The Street; They Could See One After Another Of Them Being Killed--run Over, Maimed, Destroyed--but They Continued To Play Anyhow.

Giving Me A A New Idea Is Like Handing A Cretin A Gun, But I Do Thank You Anyhow, Bang Bang.

The Bird Is Gone, And In What Meadow Does It Now Sing?

Any Given Man Sees Only A Tiny Portion Of The Total Truth, And Very Often, In Fact Almost ... Perpetually, He Deliberately Deceives Himself About That Little Precious Fragment As Well.

How Undisturbed, The Sleep Of The Foolish.