Strong Blasphemers Thrive Only When Strong Believers

One Thing Is Sure, O Comrades, That The Love That Fights To Keep Us Rooted In The Earth, But Also Urges Us To Dare The Stars, This Irresistible, This Ancient Power Wedged In The Soul, Unshakable, Is The Light That Burns Our Roots And Leaves Us Free For Space.

Prometheus, I Have No Titan's Might, Yet I, Too, Must Each Dusk Renew My Heart, For Daytime's Vulture Talons Tear Apart The Tender Alcoves Built By Love At Night.

Burton, Though An Infidel, Made It His Business To Investigate Thoroughly Every Religion. Know A Man's Faith , And You Knew At Least Half The Man. Know His Wife, And You Knew The Other Half.

Beauty In This Iron Age Must Turn, From Fluid Living Rainbow Shapes To Torn, And Sootened Fragments, Ashes In An Urn, On Whose Gray Surface Runes Are Traced By A Norn, Who Hopes To Wake The Future To Arise, In Phoenix-fashion, And To Shine With Rays, To Blast The Sight Of Modern Men Whose Dyes, Of Selfishness And Lust Have Stained Our Days...

Yes, We Hope To Seed A New, Rich Earth. We Hope To Breed A Race Of Men Whose Power Dwells In Hearts As Open As All Space Itself, Who Ask For Nothing But The Light That Rinses The Heart Of Hate So That The Stars Above Will Be Below When Man Has Love.