A Man May Say, "from Now On

A Human Soul Devoid Of Longing Was A Soul Deformed, Deprived Of Its Highest Good, Sick Unto Death.

It's Goodbye To Reality When Love Sets In.

In Here, The Human Bosom -- Mine, Yours, Everybody's -- There Isn't Just One Soul. There's A Lot Of Souls. But There Are Two Main Ones, The Real Soul And A Pretender Soul. Now! Every Man Realizes That He Has To Love Something Or Somebody. He Feels That He Must Go Outward. 'if Thou Canst Not Love, What Art Thou?' Are You With Me?

...chaos Doesn't Run The Whole Show.

We Mustn't Forget How Quickly The Visions Of Genius Become The Canned Goods Of Intellectuals.