Taste Is The Common Sense Of Genius.

The Real, Native South Seas Food Is Lousy. You Can't Eat It.

The Saints Were His Friends, And Blessed Him; The Monsters Were His Friends, And Guarded Him.

Humanity Is Our Common Lot. All Men Are Made Of The Same Clay. There Is No Difference, At Least Here On Earth, In The Fate Assigned To Us. We Come Of The Same Void, Inhabit The Same Flesh, Are Dissolved In The Same Ashes. But Ignorance Infecting The Human Substance Turns It Black, And That Incurable Blackness, Gaining Possession Of The Soul, Becomes Evil.

A Day Will Come When Markets, Open To Trade, And Minds, Open To Ideas, Will Become The Sole Battlefield.

I See Black Light (his Last Words)