Where The Heart Lies, Let The Brain

Ignorance Is Not Innocence But Sin.

We Shall March Prospering,-not Thro' His Presence; Songs May Inspirit Us,-not From His Lyre; Deeds Will Be Done,-while He Boasts His Quiescence, Still Bidding Crouch Whom The Rest Bade Aspire.

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

Make Us Happy And You Make Us Good.

Art Remains The One Way Possible Of Speaking Truth.