Never Can True Reconcilement Grow Where Wounds

Pandemonium, The High Capital Of Satan And His Peers.

For To Interpose A Little Ease, Let Our Frail Thoughts Dally With False Surmise.

Fate Shall Yield To Fickle Chance, And Chaos Judge The Strife.

There Swift Return Diurnal, Merely To Officiate Light Round This Opacous Earth, This Punctual Spot.

For Truth Is Strong Next To The Almighty. She Needs No Policies Or Stratagems Or Licensings To Make Her Victorious. These Are The Shifts And The Defences That Error Uses Against Her Power.