Heaven Is In A Grain Of Sand.

Poetry Fettered, Fetters The Human Race. Nations Are Destroyed Or Flourish In Proportion As Their Poetry, Painting, And Music Are Destroyed Or Flourish.

Kill Not The Moth Nor Butterfly, For The Last Judgement Draweth Nigh.

We Are Led To Believe A Lie When We See Not Through The Eye.

I Love Hanging And Drawing And Quartering Every Bit As Well As War And Slaughtering.

Thou Art A Man God Is No More Thy Own Humanity Learn To Adore