The Lust Of The Goat Is The

I Cry, Love! Love! Love! Happy Happy Love! Free As The Mountain Wind!

To My Eye Rubens' Colouring Is Most Contemptible. His Shadows Are A Filthy Brown Somewhat The Colour Of Excrement.

Man Has No Body Distinct From His Soul; For That Called Body Is A Portion Of Soul Discerned By The Five Senses, The Chief Inlets Of Soul In This Age.

Listen To The Fool's Reproach! It Is A Kingly Title!

God And His Priest And King,...make Up A Heaven Of Our Misery.