Prometheus, I Have No Titan's Might, Yet

Sawbeaked Epitome Of Bodiless Idea, Tossed By Gusts Of Ether, Dive Through Abstract Mists And Raid The Sea Of Fact Eat Rich Strange Fish, Grow Long Bright Feathers, Press Form's Flesh Around Thought's Rib, And So Derive From The Act Of Beauty, Beauty Of The Act.

As Science Pushes Forward, Ignorance And Superstition Gallop Around The Flanks And Bite Science In The Rear With Big Dark Teeth.

This Story Is About Love, Which Means That It Is Also About Hate.

Everybody Should Fear Only One Person, And That Person Should Be Himself .

All The Human Beings I Met Were Either Sure That There Would Be No Afterlife Or Else That They Would Get Preferential Treatment In The Hereafter.