If There Were No Executioners, There Would

...it's Only On A Black Day That You Begin To Have Friends.

A Work Of Art Contains Its Verification In Itself: Artificial, Strained Concepts Do Not Withstand The Test Of Being Turned Into Images; They Fall To Pieces, Turn Out To Be Sickly And Pale, Convince No One. Works Which Draw On Truth And Present It To Us In Live And Concentrated Form Grip Us, Compellingly Involve Us, And No One Ever, Not Even Ages Hence, Will Come Forth To Refute Them.

The Same Old Caveman Feeling-greed, Envy, Violence, And Mutual Hate, Which Along The Way Assumed Respectable Pseudonyms Like Class Struggle, Racial Struggle, Mass Struggle, Labor-union Struggle-are Tearing Our World To Pieces.

I Dedicate This To All Those Who Did Not Live To Tell It. And May They Please Forgive Me For Not Having Seen It All Nor Remembered It All, For Not Having Divined All Of It - From The Gulag Archipelago

We Hear A Constant Clamor For Rights, Rights, Always Rights, But So Very Little About Responsibility. And We Have Forgotten God. The Need Now Is For Selflessness, For A Spirit Of Sacrifice, For A Willingness To Put Aside Personal Gains For The Salvation Of The Whole Western World.