Unfortunate The Country That Needs Heroes!

What Kind Of Times Are They, When A Talk About Trees Is Almost A Crime Because It Implies Silence About So Many Horrors?

Sometimes I Have Visions Of Myself Driving Through Hell, Selling Sulphur And Brimstone, Or Through Heaven Peddling Refreshments To The Roaming Souls. If Me And The Children I've Got Left Could Find A Place Where There's No Shooting, I Wouldn't Mind A Few Years Of Peace And Quiet.

Poverty Makes You Wise But It's A Curse.

All Artforms Are In The Service Of The Greatest Of All Arts: The Art Of Living.

Let Nothing Be Called Natural In An Age Of Bloody Confusion, Ordered Disorder, Planned Caprice, And Dehumanized Humanity, Lest All Things Be Held Unalterable!