Dishonesty Is A Forsaking Of Permanent For

Pride Is Like The Beautiful Acacia, That Lifts Its Head Proudly Above Its Neighbor Plants-forgetting That It Too, Like Them, Has Its Roots In The Dirt.

There Are Ceremonious Bows That Repel One Like A Cudgel.

The Body Of A Sensualist Is The Coffin Of A Dead Soul.

All Good Writing Leaves Something Unexpressed.

An Illusion Dissipated Is An Experience Gained.