Alcohol Tells Truth, But Its Truth Is

A Vast Silence Reigned Over The Land. The Land Itself Was A Desolation, Lifeless, Without Movement, So Lone And Cold That The Spirit Of It Was Not Even That Of Sadness. There Was A Hint In It Of Laughter, But Of Laughter More Terrible Than Any Sadness-a Laughter That Was Mirthless As The Smile Of The Sphinx, A Laughter Cold As The Frost And Partaking Of The Grimness Of Infallibility. It Was The Masterful And Incommunicable Wisdom Of Eternity Laughing At The Futility Of Life And The Effort Of Life. It Was The Wild, The Savage, Frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

The Game Of Life Is Good, Though All Of Life May Be Hurt, And Though All Lives Lose The Game In The End.

The Function Of Man Is To Live, Not To Exist.

Out Of This Pack-persecution He Learned Two Important Things: How To Take Care Of Himself In A Mass-fight Against Him; And How, On A Single Dog, To Inflict The Greatest Amount Of Damage In The Briefest Space Of Time.

The Scab Is A Traitor To His God, His Mother, And His Class.