There Is No Sport In Hate Where

He Wanders, Like A Day-appearing Dream, Through The Dim Wildernesses Of The Mind; Through Desert Woods And Tracts, Which Seem Like Ocean, Homeless, Boundless, Unconfined.

Tragedy Delights By Affording A Shadow Of The Pleasure Which Exists In Pain.

Of Planets, Struggling Fierce Towards Heaven's Free Wilderness.

Persevere Even Though Hell And Destruction Should Yawn Beneath Your Feet.

Sometimes The Devil Is A Gentleman.