It Is Not A Lucky Word, This

The Dead Are All Holy, Even They That Were Base And Wicked While Alive. Their Baseness And Wickedness Was Not They, Was But The Heavy And Unmanageable Environment That Lay Round Them.

The Outer Passes Away; The Innermost Is The Same Yesterday, Today, And Forever.

All Men, If They Work Not As In The Great Taskmaster's Eye, Will Work Wrong, And Work Unhappily For Themselves And For You.

See Deep Enough, And You See Musically.

Be Not A Slave Of Words.