Poverty Possesses This Disease; Through Want It

We Must Believe In The Gods No Longer If Injustice Is To Prevail Over Justice.

He Is Life's Liberating Force. He Is Release Of Limbs And Communion Through Dance. He Is Laughter, And Music In Flutes. He Is Repose From All Cares -- He Is Sleep! When His Blood Bursts From The Grape And Flows Across Tables Laid In His Honor To Fuse With Our Blood, He Gently, Gradually, Wraps Us In Shadows Of Ivy-cool Sleep.

There Is No Harbor Of Peace From The Changing Waves Of Joy And Despair.

Our Ancestors... Purged Their Guilt By Banishment, Not Death. And By So Doing, They Stopped That Endless Vicious Cycle Of Murder And Revenge.

Short Is The Joy That Guilty Pleasure Brings.