Thou Shalt Not Horn In On Thy

Behold, On Wrong Swift Vengeance Waits; And Art Subdues The Strong.

We Are Quick To Flare Up, We Races Of Men On The Earth.

Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile, Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile

She Spoke And Loosened From Her Bosom The Embroidered Girdle Of Many Colors Into Which All Her Allurements Were Fashioned. In It Was Love And Int Desire Which Steals The Mind Even Of The Wise.

I've Always Wondered If There Was A God. And Now I Know There Is -- And It's Me.