I Hope For Nothing. I Fear Nothing.

Cursed Be All Those On Land And Sea Who Eat Their Fill, Cursed Be All Those Who Starve Yet Raise No Hand In Protest, Cursed Be All The Bread, The Wine, The Meat Which Day By Day Descends Deep In The Entrails Of The Exploited Man And Turns Not Into Freedom's Cry, The Murderer's Ruthless Knife!

Inexperience Loves To Preach.

Ah, If You Could Dance All That You've Just Said, Then I'd Understand.

O Sun, Great Oriental, My Proud Mind's Golden Cap, I Love To Wear You Cocked Askew, To Play And Burst In Song Throughout Our Lives, And So Rejoice Our Hearts.

The More Devils We Have Within Us, The More Chance We Have To Form Angels.