Love Provided Me With A Tongue And

You Have Your Ideology And I Have Mine.

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.

Of The Good In You I Can Speak, But Not Of The Evil. For What Is Evil But Good Tortured By Its Own Hunger And Thirst? Verily When Good Is Hungry It Seeks Food Even In Dark Caves, And When It Thirsts It Drinks Even Of Dead Waters.

I Am Forever Walking Upon These Shores, Betwixt The Sand And The Foam, The High Tide Will Erase My Food Prnts, And The Wind Will Blow Away The Foam, But The Sea And The Shore Will Remain Forver

Tolerance Is Love Sick With The Sickness Of Haughtiness.