The Cry Of Equality Pulls Everyone Down.

The Notion That One Can Liberate Another Soul From Captivity Is An Illusion Of The Very Young.

The Cry Of Equality Pulls Everyone Down.

So We Live; A Spirit That Broods And Hovers Over The Continual Death Of Time, The Lost Meaning, The Unrecaptured Moment, The Unremembered Face, Until The Final Chop That Ends All Our Moments And Plunges That Spirit Back Into The Void From Which It Came.

The Best Thing About Being God Would Be Making The Heads.

It Is Difficult In Life To Be Good, And Difficult In Art To Portray Goodness. Perhaps We Don't Know Much About Goodness.