Passion Is Like The Lightning, It Is

Wealth Is Good, And If It Comes Our Way We Will Take It; But A Gentleman Does Not Sell Himself For Wealth.

So They Crucified Their Messiah? Well Can I Believe It. That He Was A Son Of The Living Spirit Would Be Naught To Them, If Indeed He Was So.... They Would Care Little For Any God If He Came Not With Pomp And Power.

We Run To Place And Power Over The Dead Bodies Of Those Who Fail And Fall; Ay, We Win The Food We Eat From Out The Mouths Of Starving Babes.

And Now Let Us Love And Take That Which Is Given Us, And Be Happy; For In The Grave There Is No Love And No Warmth, Nor Any Touching Of The Lips. Nothing Perchance, Or Perchance But Bitter Memories Of What Might Have Been.

Time After Time Have Nations, Ay, And Rich And Strong Nations, Learned In The Arts, Been, And Passed Away To Be Forgotten, So That No Memory Of Them Remains. This Is But One Of Several; For Time Eats Up The Works Of Man.