Fame! It Is The Flower Of A

Excess Always Carries It's Own Retributions.

The Philosopher Stands At His Desk In The Lecture Hall, And Demonstrates Away The Soul Of Man, And With Exact Thought Measures Out His Atoms And Resolves Him Back To Gas And Air. But The Revolutionary, Below In The Crowd, Hears, And Only Translates What He Hears Thus To His Brethren: 'let Us Drink While We May; Property Is Robbery; This Life Is All; Let Us Kill And Eat; There Is No God.

Excess Always Carries Its Own Retribution.

Brussels Is A Gay Little City That Lies As Bright Within Its Girdle Of Woodland As Any Butterfly That Rests Upon Moss.

The Loss Of Our Illusions Is The Only Loss From Which We Never Recover.