Everything The State Says Is A Lie,

The Tree That Would Grow To Heaven Must Send Its Roots To Hell.

New Ways I Go, A New Speech Comes To Me; Weary I Grow, Like All Creators, Of The Old Tongues. My Spirit No Longer Wants To Walk On Worn Soles.

He Who Would Learn To Fly One Day Must First Learn To Stand And Walk And Run And Climb And Dance; One Cannot Fly Into Flying.

It Is Certainly Not The Least Charm Of A Theory That It Is Refutable.

Of All That Is Written, I Love Only What A Person Hath Written With His Blood.